


Crests, Corrupted

by Dream_edge



Category: Digimon Adventure Zero Two | Digimon Adventure 02
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Betrayal, Gogglehead Hikari, M/M, So here we are, made me really want evil daiken, main cast is around 16 in this, some of the theorizing on my dash about tri, the evil boyfriends au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2018-07-11 02:00:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 243,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7021171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dream_edge/pseuds/Dream_edge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Kaiser's Empire stretched across the breadth of the Digital World. While the Kaiser hid in his fortress, moving armies like chess pieces, his Knight spread fear and destroyed any opposition. </p><p>Hikari's sworn to stand against them until the end, but its difficult leading her little team of four when she's constantly plagued by doubts and comparing herself to Taichi. And that's before her enemies turn out to be her friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Knight of the Empire

Taichi really only had himself to blame for this situation. He could admit that. He liked to think he’d outgrown his childhood impulsiveness, and yet, Agumon called for help and he went running without considering what was going to be waiting for him. (Which was: 1 army of evil digimon, complete with ominous red eyes; 1 stampede of fleeing good digimon; 1 particularly sullen Child digimon protecting eight Babies; and 1 terrifying shadow of something he never even saw before it attacked him.)

Sora was going to kill him if Yamato didn’t. No, wait, Yamato would understand his desperate need to save Agumon after all those long years apart from him; Sora would definitely be the one to kill him. Which wasn’t to say Sora wouldn’t understand, she just wouldn’t consider it a viable excuse. Sora was always so much more sensible than him and Yamato.

“Taichi.” Agumon called and Taichi’s heart clenched at the sound of his voice; almost a decade dreaming of that voice, missing, almost mourning, it, and now Taichi didn’t have words for the bubbling, warm joy that filled his chest to bursting. Taichi took a breath to steady himself against the elation that threatened to bowl him over. Yet he didn’t dare turn from watching the cave enterance to look at his partner. The last time he’d thought they were in the clear, two of the digimon he’d been running with had died.

“How are the others doing, Agumon?” he asked. The other digimon with him were pressed into the shadows at the back of the cave; the remaining six Babies all piled on top of each other; the Strabimon sitting by himself, eyes ever watchful. He kept guard at the front, though with Agumon unable to digivolve, they might as well be as useless as the Babies in a fight.

Agumon wobbled into place next to him, also watching the clear noon sky with wary eyes. “They’re scared, Taichi.”

“Can’t blame them,” Taichi mumbled, remembering the drop of his stomach when he stood in the middle of the stampede, how his blood had frozen when he’d realized Agumon wouldn’t digivolve. “I called the others. They should be here soon. I hope.” Hopefully they wouldn’t run into the same enemies he had; hopefully he hadn’t called his friends into a trap.

“What do you think those lights were?”

Taichi bit his lip, remembering the two bright lights that had shot into the sky shortly after he’d called for help. “I don’t know, buddy. Don’t think we have room to worry about it right now.” 

Agumon nodded.

They stood there for several minutes. Taichi was aware of the other digimon huddling in the shadows in the back of the cave. Every so often, one would shift about and sniffling sounds kept echoing about. It was wrong, Taichi thought, for something as tiny and innocent as a Baby digimon to be so afraid. He wanted to go comfort them, his instincts screamed for it, but it was impossible to forget how they had looked at him in fear. Like he had walked straight out of their nightmares. So he stood apart from them, let them take comfort in each other, and instead stood as a rather useless guard.

Shadows shifted in the surrounding forest; Taichi tensed as forms appeared in the darkness. He was highly aware that Agumon couldn’t digivolve, that if it came to a fight, it would be two Child digimon to protect the six Babies. The hairs on his arms all stood on end.

Tailmon walked out of the shadows.

Taichi gapped for several seconds, still caught in fight-or-flight, before his brain registered what he saw. Tailmon wasn’t completely uninjured, was covered in deep scratches, and was half-carrying, half carefully tugging a load Taichi took a moment to recognize as Patamon. Taichi immediately sped from his position to kneel before them.

Tailmon looked up at him with wide eyes. “Taichi-san?” she asked, hesitant, like she was speaking to a phantom. At her side, Patamon twitched and seemed to struggle towards consciousness.

“I’m here. And Hikari will be soon,” Taichi promised, “Everything’s going to be okay.” He reached out and gently took Patamon from her. Patamon looked as equally carried in scratches as Tailmon. Patamon looked up at him with one bleary eye, half-closed. Taichi gave him his best smile. “Hey there, little buddy.”

Patamon smiled back up at him. “Hi Taichi-san.”

They slipped back into the shadows of the cave, Tailmon keeping as close as possible to his feet. “What happened?” Taichi asked as soon as they were hidden again, “Are you alright?”

“We were caught between the Kaiser’s territories. We barely escaped the Rings,” Tailmon said. Her tail lashed agitatedly behind her. “I’ll be fine.”

“And you?” Taichi asked Patamon.

“I’m good,” Patamon muttered. He smiled weakly. “I just need to rest.”

Tailmon looked up at him. “How are you here?”

Taichi sighed and slid so he was sitting on the ground. Patamon he placed gently on his lap, ruffling the tiny furs between his wings in comfort. Agumon sat down next to him and leaned against his side. Taichi then told them both how he came through the open gate after getting a call from Agumon; how he’d exited into a war zone where he’d almost gotten trampled by retreating digimon. Finding Agumon but still unable to do anything; fleeing until he’d found the group of Babies he was currently with; how they’d been attacked when Taichi had assumed they were safe. “It looks clear out there, but after last time, I want to be cautious. Wait for the others.”

“Probably a good idea.”

“Thanks.”

They sat in silence for a while after that. After a moment, Tailmon curled against the leg Agumon wasn’t leaning on and fell asleep. Taichi settled one hand on Agumon’s head while his other hand fiddled with his digivice. His eyes remained focused on the sky.

Taichi lost track of time. He was aware peripherally of Strabimon watching them, silent and still where he sat with the Babies. But Strabimon seemed uninclined to speak, so Taichi didn’t address him. Nervous energy still floated around in his stomach, directionless, keying him up more than he normally would be. He sat, waiting for that shadow across the ground again, heralding quick claws and quicker death.

He picked at one of the fresh scabs on his palm, wondered if his brief encounter with the army, if that shadow knocking him ass over end, had left him as covered in scratches as Tailmon. He certainly felt like he was.

His digivice picked up the signal of four other digivices approaching rapidly. Taichi smiled in relief but stayed where he was, unwilling to disturb the three digimon resting on him. After only a few minutes, Taichi heard a familiar voice call his name.

“Taichi!”

Tailmon’s eyes snapped open. “Hikari!” she shouted, then was up and gone. Her wild scramble away awoke Agumon and Patamon.

Taichi stood slowly, allowing a much healthier Patamon to flutter out of his hold to the ground. Then he stretched, winced at the pull of muscles in his back. He was not as young as he used to be. Taichi huffed at himself, half-amused, half-rueful. He was only eighteen; he had no business feeling so old just yet.

Muscles slowly warming to movement again, Taichi walked to the cave entrance. Outside, Tailmon was curling around Hikari’s feet, between them, purring loud enough Taichi could hear it. After a second, Tailmon leaped up and fitted herself along Hikari’s shoulders. She then nuzzled against Hikari’s cheek; Hikari herself was all wide smiles and giggling.

“Hey,” Taichi called as loudly as he dared. Heads turned his way and Taichi hurriedly motioned them into the cave. Once everyone was inside, Taichi took a better look at the group and stared. Hikari, he’d expected; Sora and Takeru, while a pleasant surprise, were not terribly shocking; the two kids he didn’t know rather blindsided him. He stared at the boy and girl he didn’t know for a beat, then looked over at Sora. He pointed at the new kids. “Ummm?”

“This is Inoue Miyako and Hida Iori,” Sora said immediately. She knew him so well. “They have digivices.”

“Really?”

Both kids almost immediately pulled at digivices in response to his question. They didn’t look like digivices Taichi was aware of, but if Sora said they were, he was inclined to agree with her.

“There was this flash of light, then I was holding it,” Inoue said and Hida nodded in agreement.

“Huh.” Taichi leaned down to better examine them. “I saw these two lights in the sky earlier, but I didn’t have time to investigate.”

“Taichi, what’s going on? We passed a Tyrannomon on the way here, but, something about him was wrong,” Sora demanded.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, “I showed up in the middle of some sort of,” he paused to think of a word to describe what had happened. It hadn’t been a battle; the fighting had been very one-sided. The most any opposition seemed capable of was running away. “It was an invasion,” he finally decided on.

“An invasion?” Takeru asked. Taichi turned to look at him, found Patamon proudly nestled on top of his hat. “By who? The Dark Masters?”

“No, I don’t… I don’t think so. I don’t know. We managed to get away from the main army, but something hit us.” He looked at Sora and said, trying to put as much force into his voice as possible, “I swear, there was nothing there. The sky was clear, we were alone. Then, I heard wings, there was a shadow on the ground. I saw this flash of light and two of the Babies were dead. I never even saw what hit us.”

Another voice spoke from behind them, pulling their attention, “That was the Kaiser’s Knight.”

They turned to see the Strabimon approaching them. “Ah, this is Strabimon,” Taichi introduced, “He’s kind of the leader of the Babies I found.”

Mumbled greetings were exchanged. Then Takeru stepped forward. “I’m sorry, we just got here,” Takeru said, “Kaiser? Knight? What’s going on?”

There was a moment’s pause, then Strabimon motioned them to the back of the cave where he’d been sitting previously. As they followed him, Taichi noticed some of the Baby digimon shy away, the whole group curling into a tighter ball. 

Strabimon sat down again with a tired sigh. “The army you saw,” he told Taichi, “It’s the Kaiser’s. He’s been conquering the Digital World bit by bit.”

“He has these Rings,” Tailmon said. Taichi watched all her fur puff out and stand on end. “Once you’re caught, you have to do what he says. You’re practically his slave.”

“And you can’t digivolve in his territory,” Patamon added, “he can prevent it somehow.”

Hikari, frowning, asked Tailmon, “So even with us here, you can’t digivolve?”

Tailmon shook her head. “Not in his territory.” After a minute, she added, “He has a lot of territory.”

“Excuse me, Strabimon-san,” Hida said, “Could you please tell us everything you know about what’s happening?”

Strabimon stared back at Hida for a moment, examining him. Then he huffed. “Yeah, sure. Probably for the best. My village was- he started there.” Strabimon waited while they all sat down. “It started three years ago. A human boy came to our village.”

“A human?” Takeru interrupted, “The Kaiser’s human?”

Strabimon nodded. Taichi let out a slow, controlled breath, blood hot with rage, and looked over at the Babies. They were still huddled together in the corner by themselves. “That’s why they’re afraid of me…”

“Yes,” Strabimon agreed, “They aren’t old enough to remember the Chosen fighting for us.” Strabimon sighed and was quiet for a long second. “The boy, he was… sweet. Kind, eager to help. We never thought to suspect him of wrongdoing, even when there were digimon disappearing from the village.

“Then, one day, the missing digimon came back. Ringed, all of them. They attacked and… we lost the battle before we realized there was a fight. A few of us got away. Some were Ringed. Most, most died, those too young or too old to be of use, or too strong to be controlled. The boy was there, ordering it all, smiling.”

Taichi shivered at the tone of Strabimon’s voice. There was an obvious, vicious anger all over him, yet beneath that was a hollowness that rang of betrayal. 

“He hit most of the north-west in a week, before anyone could mount a proper defense. After that, it was war. We managed to hold him at bay for a while, though we could never get the upper hand. That position held for a few months.”

“The Knight?” Taichi guessed.

“Yeah. There was a period of time, maybe two months, where the Kaiser was… gone. His empire seemed to run wholly on autopilot. We started taking land back, freeing slaves. When the Kaiser came back, he had his Knight. We never stood a chance.”

“The Knight is that strong?” Inoue asked. She wasn't looking very steady anymore, Taichi thought. Not afraid, not quite, but she seemed to be realizing the gravity of what she was getting into. Taichi wished for time enough to properly explain to both kids what they’d been pulled into.

“Strong, fast, brutal. Worse, he’s absolutely brilliant. In a brute-force battle, we lost every time. Between the Knight and the Kaiser, it became a war wits. Who adapted quickly, learned faster.” Strabimon snorted, tone bitter when he added, “We rarely learned faster than the Kaiser.”

“So this Knight acts as his general?” Hida asked. He watched Strabimon with a laser focus that made Taichi want to shift nervously in Strabimon’s place.

“More as his champion. He leads the armies in the Kaiser’s stead on occasion, but his purposes are much more multi-faceted. Anything the Kaiser needs done, he accomplishes. General, scout, spy, enforcer, assassin.” Strabimon paused, then added in voice that was a touch hesitant, almost afraid, “At mid-day, with clear skies, you never even see him coming.”

“That’s what happened today,” Taichi realized, “That light, the attack, it was him.”

“That’s him. Half the time, you’re dead before you realize he’s there.” Strabimon looked over them all, one by one, and added in a voice of utter seriousness, “Don’t fly in the Kaiser’s territory. Not ever.”

“We understand,” Taichi said and heard everyone echo him.

“We have to stop this,” Hikari said. She stood up with her resolve, looking down at him pointedly.

“How?” Sora wondered. “We can’t digivolve.”

“We’ll figure out a way,” Takeru’s voice was firm, “We always do.”

“Perhaps,” Hida said, also pushing himself back to his feet, “We should focus on getting out of this cave first.”

Everyone else also stood. Taichi said, “There’s still an army out there. Not to mention the Knight.”

“The main bulk of the army should have passed on by now. There will still be patrols until the territory is stabilized, but it should be easy to avoid the huge battlefields,” Strabimon said.

“That still leaves the Knight.”

Strabimon pushed himself back to his feet. There was an oddly rueful expression on his face. “I have a solution. When he attacked us, the Knight was pretty far outside the main line of battle. He doesn’t always stay inside the Kaiser’s territory, but he doesn’t deviate like that during a territory grab. Not without a purpose. I think he’s after me.”

“You?” Taichi asked.

Practically on the heels of his words, Takeru asked, “Because you’ve been fighting him for so long, right? The kind of resistance is bound to give others hope for their own chances.”

“That’s right,” Strabimon agreed, “Also plenty of time to cause them a lot of trouble. Right now, I’m still the biggest target here. He’ll follow me.”

“You’re going to sacrifice yourself?” Inoue asked in a tiny, horrified kind of voice Taichi completely agreed with.

“Yes. Those Babies are my biggest concern. If I can buy you even a few minutes to get them out of here, it will be worth it.”

“No, it won’t be,” Hikari said, utterly firm, before Taichi could even open his mouth. He looked over at his sister in surprise. Hikari’s expression was fierce, unwavering as she stared Strabimon. “You have no idea what you can accomplish tomorrow if you survive today. There’s still a long war ahead of us.”

“Hikari’s right. We’re not going to just stand here and let you die,” Takeru said.

“There’s a lot of us,” Taichi said immediately, “We can spread out, give more cover.”

“We can’t digivolve, so we’ll all have to be careful,” Tailmon added. Agumon nodded rapidly in agreement.

“And I don’t have Biyomon,” Sora said. She was trying to hide it, but there was worry obvious in the tight, thin press of her mouth, the wideness of her eyes.

Taichi reached out to grip her shoulder in comfort. “I’m sure she’s fine, Sora. Biyomon’s smart, she can take care of herself.”

“Thanks, Taichi.” Sora said, though she still looked worried.

“Last I knew, Biyomon was in the south. She’s no where near this fight.” Patamon said brightly. More of the tension fled the lines of Sora’s shoulders; Taichi sent Patamon a thankful smile.

“Thank you Patamon,” Sora said gratefully. After a minute, her expression resettled into familiar strength. “Regardless of where Biyomon is, the point is, she’s not here. I won’t be of any help. Plus,” Sora stopped and looked over at where Inoue and Hida were standing, listening intently.

“They don’t have digimon yet,” Taichi finished.

“I’ll help anyway I can,” Hida said firmly. His eyes were still sharp, focused, and Taichi had to try not to shift uncomfortably under that assessing gaze. “Just tell me how I can.”

Inoue nodded rapidly in agreement, though she wasn’t anywhere near as centered as Hida seemed. “Me too.”

“I appreciate that, I do, but I don’t think you really understand the danger you’re getting into here,” Taichi said, “If something happened to you, I’d never forgive myself.”

“But we have these, these digivices!” Inoue protested. Though she tripped over the word, her tone was fierce in a way that had him leaning back a bit. Inoue shoved her digivice forward again as if to make her point better, and Taichi noticed her grip was white-knuckled. Not fear, he thought, determination. Fear lurked in the corner of her eyes but her hands were steady. Taichi couldn’t help but be impressed. Inoue continued to sputter indignantly, unaware of his thoughts, “Doesn’t this mean we’re a part of this?”

“Miyako-chan,” Hikari interrupted, stepping forward. Hikari wrapped a gentle hand around Miyako’s wrist. “It’s alright. We’ll figure something out.”

Inoue huffed and crossed her arms. Taichi wanted to smile, because he used to do that exact thing was he was trying not to be scared. His thoughts were interrupted when Hikari turned back to look at him. “What if we use two teams? Those of us with digimon can lure the Knight away, and the others can get the Babies out of here,” she suggested.

“But that would place all of the danger on you three,” Hida protested.

“And where would we take them?” Sora asked.

“Back through the gate,” Taichi said. “Take them home for now, then we can bring them back through in a territory the Kaiser doesn’t rule.”

Right below his words, Hikari told Hida in a quiet voice, “Yes, maybe, but it also means that you have a better chance for stealth. Right now, the Babies have to be your priority.”

Hida and Inoue looked at each other for a minute then both nodded. “We’ll take care of them,” Inoue promised, looking between him, Hikari, and Strabimon.

Taichi looked back at Sora. “Do you mind leading them home?”

“It’s no problem.”

“Thanks,” Taichi said. He looked back at Hida and Inoue. “Be careful. Do what Sora says. And… remember, those Babies have a good reason to be scared of us.”

“We’ll be gentle with them,” Hida promised.

Taichi watched the three walk over to the little pile of bodies. He turned away where Inoue kneeled down so he could again face Strabimon. “I suppose it’s the four of us then,” he said brightly.

“I think this is a bad idea,” Strabimon said, “The Chosen are too important to risk so needlessly.”

“I wouldn’t call this needlessly. Besides, it’ll be fun. Like old times,” Taichi said with as much brightness as he could. Agumon laughed, hiding his snout in his hands. Taichi could see Hikari and Takeru roll their eyes, but they at least looked kind of amused. Taichi looked back down at Strabimon. “Any place specific we need to get you? Or are we doing a longer route back towards the gate?”

“Any place that is away would be appreciated,” Strabimon said firmly.

“Giant circle to the gate it is then,” Takeru said.

“Then we’ll figure out what to do about the Kaiser,” Hikari added.

Taichi nodded his agreement and looked over both of them. There was a steel in them both he hadn’t seen in years, perhaps since they’d last been in the Digital World. He smiled a little to see it. Then he turned back to the second group. “Ready?”

They must have earned the Babies’ trust somehow. Inoue had zipped one of the Babies into her vest and there was another tucked under her hat; Taichi thought they both looked quite pleased with their placement, especially considering Hida and Sora were both just carrying their two Babies. 

“Well,” Taichi said brightly, “That’s adorable.”

Inoue grinned back at him with equal brightness, looking very pleased with herself. Taichi thought he could almost hear vague purring from the one tucked under her hat. Taichi turned away from her to approach Sora. “We’ll go first. Wait a bit before you leave,” he ordered, “We’ll follow you through the gate, but I don’t know how far behind we’ll be.”

“How will we know if you’re in trouble?” Sora demanded.

“... You won’t,” Taichi admitted and watched Sora’s eyes narrow in displeasure. “You’re gonna have to trust us Sora. Besides, there’s really nothing you can do.”

“For the record, I don’t like that part of the plan,” Sora said, “When you get hurt, I’m telling Yamato it’s all your fault.”

Takeru snickered behind him; Taichi only sighed. “Right, of course you will.” He looked back over his shoulder at his own group. “You all ready? Right, then let’s go.”

Taichi paused only for a second at the cave entrance to scan the sky one last time for the Knight. Upon finding it clear, or at least what he thought was clear, Taichi stepped outside and disappeared into the surrounding forest. Behind him, the others followed, Hikari pausing herself only briefly to wave at those they’d left behind.

*****

Sora led the way through the forest, keeping a careful ear for any out-of-place sounds. Nerves jangled under her skin, an unceasing itch of tension. She felt terribly vulnerable without Biyomon at her side; hopefully she was managing to hide it from the others. Her attempt at calm control wouldn’t have fooled Biyomon, or even Taichi and Yamato, but the two with her didn’t know her well enough yet to see through it. 

She paused when she heard a far-off branch break. Behind her, Inoue and Hida stopped immediately and looked at her for further direction. Sora wished the Babies were as responsive; instead of going silent and still like the humans, they began to shake and whimper. They were so sensitive to tension. Sora began to make little shushing sounds as she continued to watch the surrounding forest for movement.

She couldn’t see anything. Sora waited another minute, just to be sure, then motioned everyone forward again.

“The gate feels so much farther away than when we came,” Inoue said, quiet, hesitant. The weight of tension, of being constantly aware of her surroundings, was obviously draining her.

Sora huffed quietly and nodded. They were moving slowly so Sora could pay proper attention to her surroundings, half the pace they’d managed when looking for Taichi. Twice the tension too; the journey to Taichi had been almost light-hearted despite the circumstances, buoyed by Inoue and Hida’s wonder at the Digital World. They’d been honest with their awe in a way that was both refreshing and made her miss Mimi terribly. Even the Tyrannomon with its red eyes that had set Sora, Hikari, and Takeru on edge hadn’t dimmed their enthusiasm much. (They seemed like such good kids, she was going to enjoy working with them.)

But now, with Inoue and Hida so wholly aware of the danger of their situation, their excitement was completely replaced with fear. It made the trip back to the gate seem twice, even three times, as long. “We’re almost there,” she assured. Inoue nodded, still looking downcast. Her hat was shaking a little with the Baby hidden there.

They continued walking. After several more minutes, there was another snapping sound, not nearly as far off as the previous.They all froze, Inoue and Hida not even needing her guidance this time. After a second, Hida carefully shuffled forward, barely making a sound as he moved, and managed to point off the the left with his arms full of two Babies. Sora looked where he was pointing, saw the flash of red of a Tyrannomon.

The Tyrannomon was moving through the forest at a steady pace that practically gobbled up the distance between itself and the group. Sora didn’t think it had seen them yet, it’s path wasn’t going to intercept them; however, it would pass close, and their group wasn’t exactly dressed inconspicuously. Inoue was in bright purple and red; Sora herself was still in her high school uniform. 

She reached out slowly, not taking her eyes off the Tyrannomon, and placed a hand on Hida’s shoulder. “Quickly, quietly,” she whispered and carefully pushed Hida ahead of her. Once he walked past, quiet as a shadow, she moved her grip to Inoue and pushed her as well.

Once they were both moving away as quietly as they could, Sora began to follow. She did so moving backwards, as she didn’t want to look away from the Tyrannomon. She could see the Tyrannomon pause; it’s head lifted into the air and its nose twitched with deep inhales. Sora stopped breathing, though she didn’t stop moving. She was shaking; she couldn’t stop. “Biyomon,” she said in the quietest whisper, unable to keep herself from calling out, even knowing Biyomon was nowhere near her.

“Takenouchi-san,” Hida called in a hushed voice, “Look.”

Sora did not want to look, did not want to move her attention away from the Tyrannomon. Still, there was an urgency in Hida’s voice that had her looking over her shoulder. Only a quick glance, then she snapped back to Tyrannomon; it was a long enough glance to see an old temple rising in the middle of the forest. There was a circle of empty ground around it, where they would be completely vulnerable. But if they could get inside, Sora thought they might be able to disappear into the shadows. As she considered it, Tyrannomon’s sniffing increased noticeably. “Alright, go for it,” she ordered.

She could hear the other two begin to creep out into the empty stretch. As they did so, one of the Babies in Sora’s arm whimpered. Loudly. Tyrannomon’s head snapped in their direction, glowing red eyes roving for them. “Run!” Sora shouted and spun on heel to follow them at a dead sprint.

They ran for the tall set of stairs directly ahead of them. Sora heard Tyrannomon stomping after them but didn’t look back. The minute they crested the top of the stairs, Sora threw herself inside and around the nearest corner, hiding from sight. Panting heavily, she slowly inched back to the archway and glanced out. Tyrannomon was standing on the edge of the clearing, again sniffing obviously. It seemed hesitant to approach further.

Sora glanced back at Hida and Inoue; they were further into the shadows of the temple, panting for breath. After a second, Hida straightened up again. He placed the Babies on the ground and motioned for them to stay, speaking quietly. Now free of his burden, he mirrored her on the other side of the archway. He examined Tyrannomon carefully. “It’s neck,” Hida said after a minute, “Is that the Ring Tailmon was talking about?” 

Sora looked at it, took in the thick black collar around it’s neck. “Probably.” She bit her lip, a mix of frustration and an all-consuming uselessness. “If I had Biyomon, I could have the Ring off it in seconds.”

“Not much we can do now,” Inoue said. She was sitting now against one of the pillars of the temple. The Babies Hida had set down had swarmed into her lap and she was petting them almost absent-mindedly. 

“I know.”

As they spoke, Tyrannomon began to circle the temple, still sniffing for them. Sora watched it move, every muscle tensed and prepared to sprint off again. 

“It has to know we’re up here, right?” Hida asked, “What’s it waiting for?”

“Maybe that Ring damages its intelligence somehow,” Inoue suggested. 

“Or there’s something about this temple it doesn’t like,” Sora added.

“Perhaps we shouldn’t stay then,” Hida said, “There might be a back entrance we can take and run for it. How far are we from the Gate?”

“Not far. Another maybe ten minutes.” 

“I’ll go look,” Inoue said, pushing herself to her feet, “See if there’s another exit.”

“Be careful,” Sora ordered.

Inoue nodded. “Of course. Just keep an eye on that thing please. I’ll shout if there’s trouble.” Sora watched her walk deeper into the temple, Babies held close. Once Inoue disappeared out of eyesight, she turned back to Tyrannomon. He was standing still, red eyes watching the temple steadily.

“Why’s he just standing there?” The Nyaromon in her arms asked, voice tiny and wobbling.

Sora ran one finger along its body in comfort. “I don’t know.”

Next to her, Hida sighed. “Is it always like this?”

“No,” Sora said quietly, then hesitated before continuing, “It can be dangerous but, I’ve always thought what I went through was worth it. Maybe that was the nostalgia. The Digital World can be beautiful and peaceful. And I wouldn’t trade Biyomon for anything. But there are dangers. Frequently. I can’t deny that.”

“Thank you for your honesty.”

“I hope you can find something here to love like I do.”

There was a shuffling sound behind her, causing them both to look back. Inoue reappeared, looking parts sheepish and confused. “Um, Takenouchi-san,” Inoue called, holding out her digivice, “Is this thing supposed to be beeping?” 

Sora frowned and approached her. The digivice seemed normal as far as she could tell and definitely wasn’t beeping. “When did it stop?”

“A few feet back. There were these stairs further in, so I started up them. Then this thing started beeping at me. It sounded like when we found Yagami-san.”

“It’s probably picking something up on the radar,” Sora said. “Did you see anything?”

Inoue shook her head. “I turned back once it started beeping.”

“Takenouchi-san!” Hida called from the archway. Sora ran back to him immediately. When she looked outside, a Mojyamon had joined the Tyranomon. “It called for backup.”

“Right. Everyone, further into the temple,” Sora ordered immediately.

“Towards the beeping?” Inoue asked in a high tone.

“Yes,” Sora said. Sora carefully rearranged her hold on her two Babies so she could grip Inoue’s hand, the one holding the digivice. “Trust this. My digivice has never led me wrong before.”

“Okay,” Inoue agreed, voice continuing to go higher. Her shoulders were rising to her ears, tight with nerves. 

Sora smiled as bright as she could manage in response. “Don’t worry. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Inoue eased a little and a blush took over her cheeks. Hida stepped up next to her so he could take back his two Babies. Seeing them both settled, Sora started further into the temple. It didn’t take long at all to find the stairs Inoue had mentioned and only two steps up, Sora felt her digivice start to vibrate and beep. She shuffled until she could pull it out, not bothering to stop her advance upwards.

Reaching the top of the stairs, Sora found what looked like a small altar. On two stone pedestals in the middle sat strange, vaguely roundish objects. Sora approached them slowly.

“Is that what the digivice is detecting?” Hida asked as he followed.

“Probably,” she agreed. She put her digivice back in her pocket; leaned down to examine them better. The right one was made of a sharp silver and had the Crest of Love on it. She trailed her finger over it, staring at it in shock.

“Do you know what that means?” Inoue asked.

“It’s the Crest of Love. My Crest,” she said, “There are eight all together. Every member of the old team had one.”

“Then that belongs to you,” Hida said, “There’s a different one on this one.”

Sora looked over at the yellow object. “That’s the Crest of Knowledge. Koushiro-kun’s Crest.”

“Do you know what these things do?” Inoue asked.

Sora shook her head. “I’ve never seen them before.” After a second of thought, she carefully set her Babies down and walked forward so she could pick it up. It didn’t budge, not an inch. “It won’t move,” she said in shock.

“What, it’s stuck?”

“No, it’s more like its resisting me. Like it’s refusing to move.”

“That’s weird, right?” Inoue asked hesitantly. Sora nodded.

“Maybe there’s another set of parameters here we don’t know about,” Hida suggested. He turned away from the pedestals. “Either way, we can’t stay here.”

Sora nodded again and bent to pick up her Babies. “You’re right. Those digimon will be after us soon, if they’re not waiting for more reinforcements. We need to leave this place and get to the gate.”

Sora turned away, looking for another exit. She’d barely taken a few steps when a bright light filled the room. She turned back immediately, found Inoue standing there holding the object with a sheepish expression. “I thought I should just try it,” Inoue said, attempting to grin.

The light resolved before Sora could say anything and Inoue turned back around to stare at it. The object she was holding crashed to the ground as the small, bird-like digimon appeared from the light and jumped into her arms. “Miyako-san!” it cried, nestling deep into her arms. The Punimon zipped into Inoue’s vest made a bubbling sound of annoyance in response.

“Ah, ah, hello?” Inoue replied, arms awkwardly holding her bundle of feathers.

The digimon pulled back and jumped onto the the now empty pedestal. It cleared its throat, wing covering its face; Sora thought it looked a little embarrassed. “Forgive me, Miyako-san. I am Hawkmon. I’ve been waiting for you for such a long time.”

“Oh, well.” Inoue was blushing again but a wide, happy smile was building across her face as well. “That’s just fine. I don’t mind at all.”

“How did you manage to pick it up?” Hida asked. He was crouched next to the object Inoue had dropped but he didn’t reach out to touch it.

“Oh, I just grabbed it. It came right off,” Inoue said.

“If it was guarding your partner, then maybe it was waiting for you,” Sora said slowly as she thought things through. There was no doubt that Hawkmon was Inoue’s partner. Not with a response like that. “That’s why I couldn’t pick it up.”

The Wanyamon in Sora’s arms shifted about to get her attention. “Maybe he can pick up the other one,” it said quietly.

She nodded, “Hida-kun, try the yellow one.”

Hida looked up at her for a second before setting his Babies down and approaching the other pedestal. The Babies on the ground hopped about as they watched him, curious and excited about events now. The other object came easily when he tugged and another bright light filled the room. Immediately, a large, heavy-looking Child digimon barreled into Hida’s chest and only Hida’s quick squaring of his feet kept him standing. The digimon seemed to be simply repeating Hida’s name over and over again into his chest.

Sora watched them, the bright, shocked expression Hida had, the rapid-fast compliments between Inoue and Hawkmon. A deep ache for Biyomon filled her chest and she couldn’t hold in a sigh. Immediately, attentions swerved to her. She blushed at the attention, and tried to laugh it off. “I’m fine, really,” she assured. 

A loud, deep roar from outside cut off any attempts to question her further. She straightened and forced back any lingering heartache. She would find Biyomon later; right now, she had a very important bundle to get to safety. She pointed to the silver object Inoue had dropped. “Grab those things and the Babies. It's time to go,” she ordered.

“Oh my. Are we in trouble, Miyako-san?” Hawkmon asked as the two humans hurried to obey.

“Kinda sorta.” Inoue agreed. Sora started running, finding another set of stairs behind the pedestals, which she bolted down at a speed that had the babies in her hold crying out in fear. She could hear behind her as Inoue struggled to run and explain the situation to Hawkmon at the same time.

“We could just digivolve,” Armadimon said. 

Sora paused at the bottom of the stairs to check on her group. Inoue was ahead of Hida, Babies still in her vest and hidden under her hat; Hawkmon was flying just above her as she ran. Hida was running behind her, carrying Armadimon in his arms; one of the Babies he’d been carrying had moved to his head, though the other was stuffed in next to Armadimon. Reassured the two were keeping up and their cargo was still secure, Sora started running again.

“You can’t digivolve in the Kaiser’s territory,” Inoue shouted over her shoulder, “Apparently.”

They stilled at the archway that led outside; Sora poked her head out and looked around, but was unable see any digimon. Hawkmon flew around them, wings beating against the air, the sound almost drowning out his words. “Even with the Digimental?” 

Sora started down the last set of stairs even as she asked over her shoulder, “Digimental?”

“Do you mean those weird objects?” Hida asked.

Another loud roar cut off any response. Sora snapped around, saw Tyrannomon charging at them; it was accompanied by Mojyamon and a Deltamon. “Run!” she shouted. “The gate isn’t far!”

They took off as fast as they could, though Hida lagged behind on account of the weight he was carrying. Sora motioned Inoue to keep running, even as she turned on heel to head back to Hida. She had no idea what she was going to accomplish, but she wasn’t going to leave him behind. If she had to face down an Adult digimon by herself, she would do it. _Oh god, this is a stupid plan. I’ve known Taichi too long_ , she thought hysterically.

“Iori, use the Digimental,” Armadimon said, looking up at the human carrying him.

Hida’s eyes met hers. “Do it!” She ordered immediately.

Sora couldn’t make out whatever Hida shouted after that, but it was immediately followed by a bright light and the familiar sound of digivolution. Some of the panic in her chest eased with it. The light faded as Sora finally got to Hida’s side; Hida’s face was a mask of awe as he stared up at his partner. Even the Baby digimon he was holding were perking up, watching with wide eyes. 

“Are you alright?” she asked. Hida nodded, not moving his eyes away. 

Hida’s partner burst forward to meet Tyrannomon head on. The two digimon seemed evenly matched as they grappled, though Mojyamon and Deltamon were quickly approaching. Hida stepped forward a bit, as if drawn, “Digmon,” he breathed. Then he cleared his throat and called, “Digmon, the Ring! Aim for the Ring.”

Sora’s attention was on the still approaching backup. “We can’t win this, we need to go,” she said. Since Hida’s attention seemed to be mostly on Digmon, she grabbed his shoulder and started trying to tug him back.

Before they got very far, a long shadow fell over them. Sora’s heart stopped for a minute as she remembered Taichi’s story of being attacked; when she looked up, however, it was to see Inoue riding on an Adult digimon. Inoue whooped loudly, grin huge and bright, as her digimon swooped down to dig it’s claws into Tyrannomon’s back. As Tyranomon reeled back, thrashing as he tried to throw off Holsmon, Digmon lashed out. The drills on its hands struck the Ring and even at this distance, Sora could hear the Ring the crack. It shattered and vanished.

Digmon and Holsmon flew away, rejoining her and Hida. Inoue looked down at her from Holsmon’s back; any trace of fear was gone from her face. She was practically glowing. “This is great!” she said brightly.

“Well done,” Sora said.

“Thanks.”

Sora looked back at the still approaching digimon. “Can you take on two?” she asked.

“Watch us,” Digmon said.

“Takenouchi-san,” Inoue called and leaned down so she could hand off her two Babies. “Can you watch them please? Thanks!”

Holsmon took off again, heading for Mojyamon; a few seconds after, Digmon disappeared underground as he tunnelled towards the enemies. Sora watched them battle with her heart in her throat, unable to do anything. However, as the four battled, Tyrannomon slowly got back to its feet, shaking its head like it was confused. Hida ran forward before she could stop him. 

“Excuse me,” Hida shouted at Tyrannomon, squaring himself as it towered above him. “We’re the ones who took off your Ring. Can you help us?” Then Hida turned and pointed at the two still Ringed digimon.

Tyrannomon looked between the the fighting digimon and the short human addressing it; then it's now blue eyes curled up in a smile. Tyrannomon turned to the fighting digimon, roared loudly, then charged the Mojyamon Digmon was fighting. With their enemies now successfully outnumbered, the battle turned and was quickly won.

As the last Ring shattered, the many Babies Sora was holding began to cheer and bounce excitedly. Holsmon and Digmon rejoined them and Inoue immediately threw herself from Holsmon’s back, ignoring Holsmon’s worried shout of her name. Once her feet were on the ground, Inoue ran to Hida and grabbed his hands; they danced together for a minute, voices raised in glee and were joined almost immediately by the Babies.

Sora left them to their celebration and approached the now free digimon. Deltamon looked over at her approach then turned away and disappeared into the forest. Tyrannomon and Mojyamon stayed and watched until she stood in front of them. “It is good to see the Chosen again,” Mojyamon said, “You’re desperately needed.”

“We’ve noticed,” Sora said, “And we’re going to make this right. I don’t know how long it will take, but we’re going to stop this Kaiser.”

“We’ll spread word to others and let them know you’re back. The Chosen will bring others hope. Especially knowing you’re able to digivolve inside the Kaiser’s territory.”

“We’ll do what we can. Will you be alright?”

There was a moment of hesitation where they looked at each other, before Mojyamon said, “We’ll do what we can.”

“Take care of yourselves, okay?” Sora asked and placed a gentle hand on Mojyamon’s arm. It smiled down a her, blushing a little, and nodded. Sora watched them walk away for a moment before she returned to Inoue and Hida. 

“Are you two okay?” she asked. They both nodded, still looking flushed with battle, so Sora turned her attention to Holsmon and Digmon. “And you two?”

“We’re just great,” Digmon said.

“Good. You all did amazing.” They grinned at her, Inoue blushing with pride. “We’ve got to go now. Get these babies out of here.”

“Agreed,” Hida said.

Inoue climbed back up onto Holsmon and held out a hand to help her up. Sora climbed onto his back, allowing the Babies to jump up after her and climb onto her. “We’re secure,” she told Inoue.

“Okay,” Inoue shouted back. Holsmon took off in a great beat of wings that made her miss Biyomon with a deep, aching pit in her chest. Sora closed her eyes as they rose above the tree line, swallowed repeatedly until the tightness in her throat eased off. _I’ll find her_ , she promised.

The trip was silent but quick. Sora felt like they’d barely covered any distance before they were circling for a landing over the Gate. Sora threw herself down to the ground as soon as they landed. “Right, let’s go home.”

Neither kid got off their digimon. Sora’s stomach dropped as they glanced at each other; she had the sudden sinking feeling she should never have gotten off Holsmon. Inoue looked back at her after a second; her jaw was set, her eyes steely. “We’re going to help Hikari-chan,” Inoue said firmly.

“We can digivolve now. They can’t,” Hida added.

“We got the Babies to the gate, our mission is over. We can do what we want.”

“We’ll use the digivices to find them. We’ll be careful.”

Sora watched the two for several seconds, took in the set of their shoulders, the straight line of their spines. Recognized that particular defiance from her last trip to the Digital World. It was, at this point, too late to stop them.“Take care of each other,” she ordered, because there was nothing else she could do but give her blessing. “Come back.”

They both nodded agreement, some of their tension easing. Sora reached up and took the last of Babies from both of them. “I’ll see you both later.”

“Bye bye,” Inoue said and waved as they started to rise into the air again. Digmon followed.

Several of the Babies started to jump up and down as they shouted their own goodbyes. Sora watched them go until they were out of sight.

*****

“This was a bad idea,” Hikari whispered, as loud as she dared. Really though, the phrase bad idea didn’t seem to even come close to covering the situation. They were doing their best to stay hidden in the thick foliage of the forest as they moved away from the gate. Patrols of Ringed digimon got more common as they got went further; it was becoming harder to avoid notice. The absence of Sora, Miyako, and Iori grated on her. Part of her was much more concerned about them than the danger around her. She shouldn’t have sent them without a partner digimon. As it was, that group was completely defenseless if anything happened. If anything happened to them because of her stupid plan, she’d never forgive herself.

Worse than all of that, though, was the shadow Taichi had talked about. There hadn’t been an attack, not yet, but every so often, a large shadow fell over them. When Hikari looked up to find the source, she found only clear blue skies. Whether the digimon was that fast or simply that well disguised, Hikari never saw it. The shadow followed them, no matter what they did, how they did it, how many patrols they dodged. It never lost them. It was hell on Hikari’s nerves.

“It was a good idea,” Taichi protested. Hikari turned to give him a disbelieving look After a visible moment of thought, Taichi added, “Considering the circumstances, it's probably the best idea we were going to get.”

Takeru shifted next to her. “It’s back,” he whispered.

Hikari watched a shadow fly over them again, its lines distorted by the many trees.She didn’t bother to look for a source she wouldn’t see this time, instead just watching as the shadow passed them by and then disappeared.

“Why doesn’t he attack?” Tailmon asked, “We’re not exactly in a position to fight back.”

“He might not know that,” Taichi said.

“You’re new. He’s being cautious,” Strabimon said.

“We should head back. The others must have reached the Gate by now. We’re good to start heading there,” Agumon said.

“I agree. Let’s start heading back.” Taichi looked around carefully before he stood up from the cover they were using. He motioned them to follow him before he started picking his way back.

They’d barely gone a few feet when Hikari heard the strangest sound. It was a slowly building cacophony of noise, growing louder and closer. “What is that?” she asked, pausing to listen. She couldn’t make out any specifics.

The others paused as well. “I have no idea,” Taichi said slowly.

“We need to run,” Strabimon said after a second of listening, ears twitching nervously.

“Why?”

“I believe the Knight has called in reinforcements. A lot of them.” Strabimon seemed to be vibrating with the effort of staying still.

“Really? Why would he?”

“I don’t know. But we need to run. We need to run right now.”

“You heard the mon,” Taichi said, already spinning to face the correct direction again, “Run, do not stop.”

Hikari immediately started sprinting. Tailmon jumped so she was resting on her shoulders, claws piercing through her shirt in her tension. Takeru was ahead of her, Patamon tucked under one arm. She glanced over her shoulder, only for a second, and saw Taichi sprinting after them; his years of soccer should have given him an easy lead but Agumon was struggling to keep up, so, every few seconds, Taichi would slow until their paces matched. Strabimon was only a few steps behind him.

She could hear the beat of many feet upon the ground, still gaining on them. She kept running. Air burned as she gulped it down, mouth utterly dry; her stomach was on fire. She looked back again; this time she caught a glimpse of a Monochromon bursting through the underbrush behind Strabimon. There was a Gizamon right behind it; behind that, blurs of color of more digimon she couldn’t make out.

She faced forward again and kept running. 

Agumon stumbled, cried out, and fell. Hikari turned again in time to see Taichi run back for him and begin helping tug him back to his feet. “Taichi!” Hikari shouted in panic, the word ripped out of her. The Monochromon behind them didn’t slow at all.

Strabimon paused next to Taichi and Agumon, looking over them quickly. Then he turned and lashed out at the approaching Monochromon with his claws. _“Licht Nagel!”_ The attack slashed across Monochromon’s face.

Monochromon stumbled and crashed to the ground just in front of Strabimon. Strabimon immediately turned back to Taichi and Agumon. “Get up!” he shouted.

Taichi managed to finish pulling Agumon to his feet and they started running again. Strabimon paused long enough for Gizamon to reach him, then struck out with “ _Licht Bein!_ ” Gizamon flew back from the hit; with Monochromon and Gizamon briefly incapacitated, Strabimon started running again.

Hikari didn’t pause to see if either picked themselves up; once she was sure Taichi, Agumon and Strabimon were safe, she started running as well. Takeru was still only a few feet ahead of her, having probably stopped at her shout, so she focused on putting one foot in front of the other as fast as possible and keeping the distance between them all small.

As focused on that as she was, and with the noise of the digimon army behind her, she didn’t notice the second wave that came from in front of them until Takeru stumbled and fell on his ass. There was a Woodmon approaching from in front of him. There were several Woodmon in front of him. “Go left!” Hikari shouted behind her, picking the direction randomly, as she ran to Takeru and helped yank him back to his feet. On her shoulders, Tailmon hissed at the Woodmon and tensed to pounce if necessary. However, Hikari was already running away, Takeru now firmly in step with her.

“We’re being corralled!” Strabimon shouted up at her. “The Knight is trying to force us to go to him!”

“Can’t do much about that!” she managed to shout back between heavy breaths. 

Tailmon said, right against her ear, fur rubbing on her cheek, “When I came this way before, there was a tunnel system nearby.”

“Do you remember the way?”

Tailmon immediately hopped from her shoulders and began sprinting through the forest ahead of them. Hikari chased after her, though she was getting to the point where she couldn’t hear much beyond the pounding in her ears. 

“We can’t do this forever,” Takeru said, though his words were broken up and breathy.

“A bit further,” she managed.

“But-”

“A-” She took a deep breath, forced steel into her voice. “Bit further.”

“...Okay.” Takeru’s steps picked up pace again from where he was beginning to lag.

Hikari looked behind her and grimaced at the swarm of digimon not far behind Strabimon. Taichi and Agumon were managing a decent pace ahead of him, though Taichi was clearly holding back to match Agumon’s speed.

Suddenly Tailmon ran back to her and began matching her pace. “It’s just ahead of us, but there are more digimon between us and the entrance.”

Hikari huffed breathlessly and managed to ask, “How many?” Her throat burned with the attempt, to the point it felt like she’d swallowed knives.

“Three,” Tailmon said, “There’s a clearing nearby though. I think that’s where they’re trying to corral us.”

Hikari kept running as she thought it through. She knew without being told that being out of tree cover was a bad idea, would leave them vulnerable to the shadow that was no doubt still following them. This army would follow them into the caves, but at least if they could make it there, they couldn’t be corralled further. “We’ll have to break through to the tunnels,” she decided.

“Oh, this is a bad idea,” Takeru panted.

“Didn’t say it wasn’t.”

Tailmon leaped forward again, called “Patamon,” over her shoulder, and then both digimon disappeared into the underbrush. Eventually Hikari could see the three digimon waiting for them; there was another Monochromon, along with a Gekomon and Tokamon. This is going to suck, she thought and kept running.

“Hikari? Hikari!” Taichi shouted behind her, voice panicked.

Tailmon jumped from the shadows as the opposing digimon’s attention turned to her. “Neko Punch!” She struck out at the Tokamon, which was thrown back, right into Patamon’s “Air Shot!”

Hikari darted for that small break in their line. Between the attacks and Hikari actually charging them instead of deviating course, the digimon couldn’t recover fast enough to stop her, then Takeru, from rushing past.

She could see the tunnel opening ahead now, could hear Takeru’s strangled, disbelieving laugh of victory. Had a brief surge of triumph before she heard a very human cry of pain behind her. She spun around immediately, but saw only the many backs of enemy digimon. The line had reformed between their group, trapping Taichi, Agumon, and Strabimon on the other side. None of the digimon were turning to deal with her, Takeru, or their partners. 

“Taichi,” she shouted, heard Agumon echo the call frantically. She shared a quick glance with Takeru then took off, away from the tunnel, parallel to the line of digimon. She heard Takeru right behind her, shouting for Taichi and Agumon.

She burst past the main group of enemy digimon, which still seemed intent on ignoring her, and managed to catch a glimpse of Taichi on the ground; he was clutching at his stomach and attempting to push himself back to his feet, though he hadn’t yet gotten past his knees. Agumon was trying to help him up. Strabimon stood protectively in front of them, body tensed for a fight as the enemy digimon closed in.

Tailmon darted between the enemies, lightning quick, so she could lash out at the Woodmon closest to the group. The Woodmon stumbled back into its fellows, mostly from surprise, and that whole section of the line collapsed into disorder. Patamon simply ran up to one of the Monochromon and aimed another attack at its legs. Monochromon stumbled and collapsed.

Hikari managed to race ahead of the main line of enemies and slid to her knees next to Taichi. “Are you okay?” she demanded, attempting to brace and lift him up.

“No,” Taichi moaned, eye squeezed shut, still gasping for air. His face was scratched up even more than it had been before, and he was now covered in dirt. “Monochromon hit me. In the chest. Went flying.” Taichi threw his arm over her shoulder and attempted to rise further; one foot slid in the dirt and they both went crashing down to the ground, hard. Taichi groaned, wheezing. “Fuck.”

Takeru stopped next to her, hands scrambling at her shoulders. “Come on.” He was panting harshly, whole face blotchy red, sweat patting his bangs to his face. “They’re coming, come on.”

Hikari pushed herself back to her knees, looked over towards the approaching army. She felt dwarfed in the mass of them. She reached blindly for Taichi with one hand and shook him. “Taichi, Taichi, come on.”

“I can’t,” he said, though he was still turning over and trying to push himself up. His legs couldn’t seem to hold his weight.

Strabimon turned a little to look at them. His eyes were wide enough to see the whites; almost wild, except there was still a calculation to them that the panic couldn’t steal. “When you got past them, they ignored you,” he said.

Hikari nodded, more focused on getting her shoulder under Taichi’s so she could lever him up. He managed to get one foot under him, at which point Agumon could get himself under Taichi as well and help. Taichi slowly lumbered back to his feet, though he was listing dangerously, most of his weight on Hikari.

“We have to go,” Tailmon shouted. She was lashing out at any of the digimon who got close; the line was still in mostly chaos and between her and Patamon, they were managing to keep it that way. But that situation wouldn’t last with their numbers. 

Hikari looked around in desperation. Though the main force was behind them, being held off by Tailmon and Patamon, there were more hemming them in on the sides. They only had one route to escape through. “We can’t go forward. That’s where the Knight’s waiting,” Hikari said. 

“Go for the tunnels. I’ll lead them away,” Strabimon said.

“What?” Takeru demanded.

“They’re only after me! That’s why they ignored you before. If we separate, you can escape.”

“We’ve already said, we’re not leaving you behind.”

“A nice sentiment when we’re not surrounded by enemies,” Strabimon snarled. He looked back at them; there was an odd twist to his mouth, part anger, part acceptance. “You have tried. I cannot ask more of you than that. But you have a duty to more than one digimon. You cannot end here.”

“But,” Hikari said.

“Go,” Strabimon ordered, voice warm.

“No, we can’t,” Taichi protested weakly, head lifting to stare at Strabimon.

Hikari looked at Strabimon, the calm expression on his face. Her stomach sank in realization. “There’s nothing else we can do,” she breathed.

“You can win the war,” Strabimon said. He nodded to her, even smiled. 

Taichi started to straighten from her support, looking around at their situation with dark eyes. “Fuck, fuck, okay,” he said after only a second, “We’ll separate.”

“Taichi-san,” Takeru protested.

“No. Yamato will kill me if anything happens to you. We’re getting out of here,” Taichi said firmly. He started moving, trying to sprint, but exhaustion weighed him down and he stumbled after only a few steps. Hikari immediately reclaimed her position of support beside Agumon and helped him continue. Takeru, though obviously unwilling, followed at their backs, eyes on the surrounding digimon.

The side of digimon they were moving towards kept coming and began making warning noises at their approach. Their eyes all glowed red. Then Strabimon fell into a crouch, tensed, and took off along the only open route on all fours. The digimon’s heads all turned to watch him before they started after, ignoring the humans and their partners completely.

As the wave of digimon moved past them, Taichi buckled. Hikari stumbled as all of his weight suddenly fell onto her and Agumon; only a quick, furious shuffle kept them upright instead of falling in a mess of limbs. “Sorry, sorry,” Taichi said as Hikari started to lower him to a sitting position.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Fine, got the wind knocked out of me.” Taichi grimaced as he felt along his chest. “Think I bruised a rib. Legs feel like jelly too. Just give me a second.”

“I know they’re distracted by Strabimon, but we really shouldn’t stay,” Tailmon said, sitting by Taichi’s knee.

“I’m sorry, Taichi-san, but if we stop now, I don’t think I’m going to be able to start again,” Takeru said. He was leaning against one of the trees and breathing heavily.

Taichi nodded in a quick, jerky movement and held out a hand for help, looking worn thin. Hikari helped tug him back to his feet again. “Come on, we’re not that far,” she said encouragingly.

“Guys,” Patamon called. 

Hikari looked over at Patamon, who was hovering worriedly by Takeru. His eyes were on the sky. Hikari looked up as well; her blood froze when she saw the large digimon slowly wheeling through the sky, coming in for a landing. It was blue and white, almost the same color as the noon sky; she only picked it out from the sky because it was so close. “The Knight,” she realized.

“I don’t recognize that digimon,” Takeru said. 

Hikari hummed agreement, watching as the digimon circled closer to the tree line. Pressure built in her chest as she watched, the need to move and act gaining steadily. “I want to know what we’re up against,” she said suddenly, the words bursting out of her.

“No,” Taichi said.

Takeru said, right over Taichi, “I agree.” 

Taichi groaned.

“If we’re careful, they won’t even realize we’re there,” Tailmon added.

“Yamato is going to kill me,” Taichi complained, mostly to himself.

“Taichi,” Agumon said, looking up at him.

That was all Agumon said, but Taichi sighed heavily and nodded. “Yeah, alright. Carefully.” He straightened out of Hikari’s hold and started into the heavier underbrush. “This is a bad idea,” he muttered to Agumon.

Hikari followed at his heels, Takeru and their partners following her. They moved through the shadows slowly, eyes and ears on the lookout for Ringed digimon. However, as they moved closer to the area where the Knight was circling, the forest around them remained clear. The almost army they’d run from was nowhere to be seen. “Where did everyone go?” Hikari whispered.

“No idea. Stay sharp,” Taichi ordered.

Not soon after, they found the clearing Tailmon had mentioned. It didn’t look natural, more like a former battle had carved it out of the surrounding forest. Strabimon was in the center, growling at a few remaining Ringed digimon, occasionally lashing out with his claws. The enemy digimon were keeping him penned into the center of the clearing.

Hikari ducked behind a tree, peaked out from behind an overgrown bush. Takeru sat down next to her and Tailmon climbed onto her knees. Taichi balanced himself awkwardly against the tree, one arm holding his side. They watched.

That’s when Hikari heard the wings. She looked up; the Knight descended into a clearing that was suddenly empty of anything save Strabimon. The shadows of the last Ringed digimon disappeared into the rest of the forest, their mission complete. Strabimon straightened to face the Knight as he landed, expression a mix of defiance and disgust.

As the dragon digimon landed, Hikari caught sight of a dark shadow along its back. A tall, human boy jumped off the digimon, hit the ground with a thump of heavy boots on dirt. As the human stepped forward from beside the digimon, Strabimon said, in a voice dripping poison, “You.”

“Me,” the boy said, rather pleasantly. He was wearing a mask, welded into the shade of a dragon’s snout; it hid the majority of his face, revealing only his mouth, which was currently curled into an arrogant smirk. A dark hood hid his hair and cast a dreadful shadow over the mask. There was something a little strange about his clothes, but between distance and position, Hikari couldn’t fully make out what he was wearing.

“So,” Takeru said quietly. He pointed at the digimon, then the boy. “Knight, and Kaiser?”

“I don’t know,” Tailmon said, “I’ve never seen either before.”

“I want to punch that smirk off his face,” Taichi said.

The human boy took a few lazy steps forward. The dragon digimon stayed where it was, watching Strabimon with attentive eyes, tensed for action at any second. “I’ve been looking for you,” the boy said.

“Honestly surprised you didn’t just take me out from the air,” Strabimon said. His mouth was still curled into a snarl and all his fur was bristling. “Unless you’ve got a Ring waiting specially for me?”

“No, not this time. You’ve fought long and hard. That deserves some respect.” The boy shrugged. “No Ring. One last fight, then an honorable death.”

Strabimon growled, loud and insulted. Then the sound faded away; Strabimon smiled, almost amused, almost peaceful. “This is your last victory, you know. You’re going to lose this war.”

“Am I? Why? Because of those children running around like spooked rabbits?” The boy laughed a little. “Somehow, I’m not concerned.”

“They’re going to destroy you,” Strabimon insisted.

The boy huffed and laced his hands behind his head. The position belayed the fierceness of his mask, made him look young, almost childish. He couldn’t have been any older than her, Hikari realized. The boy said, “Yagami can try. But he and his will fall eventually, just like everyone else.”

“He knows my name,” Taichi said, voice a little weak with surprise, horror. Hikari shivered, curled her fingers into Tailmon’s fur for comfort.

Strabimon shook his head, still smiling in a fashion that was almost amused. Then he breathed deep and said, “I’m done talking to you.” Strabimon surged forward, racing across the distance between them. “ _Licht Bein!_ ”

The boy didn’t run, didn’t even flinch away from the attack. He didn’t need to, because the second Strabimon started moving, so did the dragon; he flew towards Strabimon and tackled him across the stomach. Strabimon’s attack was forced into the air, leaving the boy unharmed. The dragon reared back, still pinning Strabimon to the ground with one hand, and light built around the ‘X’ mark on his chest. “ _X-Laser!_ ” The attack slammed into Strabimon at point blank; the force shook the ground with a stength that Hikari felt even at her distance. She barely had time to blink.

Data strands floated lazily into the sky as the light faded. Hikari stared in shock at the now empty space beneath the digimon where Strabimon had been. Horror clamped her throat tight, which managed to cut off a rising cry of grief. Takeru’s hand grasped at her arm, the grip too tight, but she didn’t care. She wasn’t sure which of them was getting more comfort from it.

The boy watched the data float into the sky for a minute. Then he turned away, raised both arms, and stretched. “Well, that’s taken care of.”

The dragon digimon straightened and looked over at him. His head tilted to the side as he asked, “What now?”

“Eh, suppose we finish with the new territory bounds, then the day is ours.”

“Don’t you have homework?” The digimon asked.

The boy made an annoyed whining sound. “Why did you bring that up?” He sighed and waved his hand. “Come on then. Off to math. Ugh.”

The digimon laughed a little and leaned down. The boy leaped onto his back with a practiced ease; there was a great beat of wings then the two were sailing up into the air. Hikari watched as they spiralled up and up, until they were impossible to make out from the blue sky.

They were silent for a moment. Then Taichi said, “Fuck.” Then again, with more viciousness, “Fuck. Asshole.”

“I barely saw him move,” Takeru said. He paused, then looked over at the two of them with wide eyes. “How does he know your name?”

“I don’t know.” Taichi shook his head then straightened from his recline against the tree. “Come on. We should get moving.”

Takeru stood, gasp of pain yanked out of him at the pull of overworked muscles. Despite that, he reached down and helped pull her to her feet. “Thank you,” she said quietly. He nodded, expression drawn, exhausted.

“I don’t think I’m going to be able to get far, Taichi-san,” Takeru whispered.

Taichi nodded. “Yeah, I’m not doing so good either,” he admitted.

Hikari looked down at Tailmon, who was standing at her feet, still watching the surrounding forest attentively. “We can go to the caves,” she suggested, “Buckle down there and try to recover.”

“As solid a plan as any,” Taichi said. 

It took much too long to make their way back to the tunnel entrance. They moved mostly at a shuffle, unable to force their exhausted bodies back into the same pace they’d used before. Most of the Ringed digimon they’d fled from were now gone, relocated to other missions with Strabimon’s death. The few that were still running patrols they were able to hide from. Hikari breathed relief when they entered the cool interior of the tunnel.

That relief died when, only a few steps into the cave, her digivice began to beep. A sob of frustration built and wilted in her throat; she closed her eyes for a moment to breathe and brace herself before she pulled it out.

When she looked over at Taichi and Takeru, they were also giving their reacting digivices tired looks. After a moment, Taichi managed to draw enough lingering strength to straighten and at least attempt an encouraging smile. “Shall we?”

“Sure,” Takeru muttered, “What could go wrong at this point?”

“We could have to run again,” Hikari said.

“I think I’ll lay down and get tramped.”

Hikari laughed a little and began following Taichi deeper into the tunnels. Before long, they found two strange metallic objects resting on an outcropping of rock. They approached the objects slowly. “What is it?” Hikari asked.

“I’ve never seen something like it,” Patamon whispered, leaning forward towards them so much he was about to fall off Takeru’s head.

“I think,” Taichi said slowly as he approached, “Those are your Crests on them.”

It was true, Hikari realized. She walked up to the one with the Crest of Light on it; Takeru mirrored her with the Crest of Hope. Takeru looked over at her and shrugged. “What’s the worse that could happen?” he asked.

“I wish you’d stop saying that,” Hikari told him.

Takeru grimaced in agreement, “So do I.”

Hikari huffed a little before she looked down at the object. She took a breath to brace herself, then, before she could second-guess herself, quickly reached out and picked it up. There was a second of nothing, the object sitting heavy and cold in her hands, then it exploded into bright light. It lasted only a moment; when the spots cleared from her eyes, her digivice was different.

“Are you okay?” Takeru asked, eyes wide.

She nodded, looking at her digivice in surprise. “Yeah, I’m alright.” She held up her her digivice to show him it.

“That’s… weird,” Takeru said, “I’m just going to pick it up.”

Hikari hummed in agreement, turning to show Taichi. Taichi frowned down at it, “Looks like Hida and Inoue’s.”

The bright flash of light from Takeru interrupted her thoughts. Takeru looked back at them, blinking rapidly. He held up his own digivice, which definitely looked like the new style she’d seen from Miyako and Iori earlier.

“Any other changes?” Taichi asked.

Her and Takeru shared a look then shook their heads.

Taichi let out a tired sigh. “Why don’t we take a break here?” he asked. “We’ll head out in a few minutes. See if we can’t contact Genai later, if he doesn’t know anything about them.”

“Sounds good to me,” Takeru said.

Hikari nodded agreement and sat down against the wall next to Taichi. Immediately, Tailmon curled up in her lap. Hikari sighed and leaned her head back against the wall behind her, beginning to pet Tailmon.

“Hikari,” Tailmon said gently, “I’m glad you're here.”

Hikari smiled. “I missed you too Tailmon.” Tailmon purred satisfaction under her hands.

She must have fallen asleep because the next thing she was aware of was the beeping of her digivice. She lifted her head from Taichi’s shoulder groggily, tongue sandpapered to the roof of her mouth. Attempting to talk got her a knife edge of pain and a sound resembling confusion. 

Taichi laughed, low and close. “You’re fine,” he said, “It’s just the digivice.” 

She lifted herself up further, frowning muzzily at him. He looked exhausted but at least more awake than she she felt. She nodded at him, trying to unstick her tongue from her mouth. Tailmon was perking up again under her hands, tail swishing as she looked around. “What’s it reacting to now?” Tailmon asked.

“People who apparently can’t follow orders,” Taichi said, his tone bright and airy. He held up his digivice so Hikari could see the two signals from other digivices slowly heading their way.

She looked back up at him. “Did you rest at all?” she asked, because the line of his shoulders was still tense, his eyes still too alert.

Taichi laughed and tried to wave it away. “Someone’s got to watch over you kids.”

Hikari looked over and finally saw Takeru still sleeping, collapsed onto his side with Patamon held close to his chest. His hat was askew and she laughed helplessly at the image. When she looked back at Taichi, she noticed Agumon was sleeping, head pillowed in his lap. “Thank you,” she said. Taichi only shrugged.

Since the signals were almost on top of them, Hikari began the long, slow process of climbing back to her feet. Her legs felt ready to fall off and she had to take a minute to breathe through the sudden pain once she got to her feet. 

Taichi grimaced at her in sympathy as he walked over to shake Takeru awake. “Gonna be worse in the morning,” he warned.

“I know,” she agreed, and started trying to walk in small circles to stretch.

Takeru groaned as he awoke, trying uselessly to bat Taichi away. After a second, Takeru sat up, the hair on the right side of his head all sticking up. “‘Mm up,” he mumbled.

It took a minute before they were up and moving again. Takeru shuffled along in the back, running his fingers through his hair in an effort to straighten it. Hikari followed only a step behind Taichi, one hand playing with her new digivice in her pocket. When they reached the tunnel entrance, Hikari looked up at the sky, an automatic reaction at this point, and felt her heart stop. “Miyako-chan?” she shouted.

Miyako smiled down at her from atop an eagle digimon. “Hikari-chan! There you are! We’ve been looking for you.”

“I don’t believe it,” Taichi muttered.

Hikari watched as Miyako and Iori descended to the forest floor upon two different digimon. Miyako’s was moving slowly, wings hitching in to avoid close pressing trees; Iori’s simply glided straight down with the buzz of insect wings. Miyako immediately hopped off and ran to embrace her. “Oh, we were so worried,” she said as she pulled back. She looked over at Taichi. “You look even worse!”

“What are you doing here?” Taichi demanded.

“Well, we found our digimon partners,” Miyako said, “So we thought we’d come and give you a hand.”

“We got the babies to the gate first,” Iori added.

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Miyako said.

“What about Sora?” Taichi demanded.

“She’s fine. She said we could go, so we’re still following orders,” Miyako said hurriedly, “Technically.”

Takeru stepped up next to her, eying the digimon the two had flown in on. “Those are Adult class digimon.” 

Miyako brightened considerably. She turned around so she could wrap her arms around her digimon’s neck. “This is Holsmon. He’s amazing.”

Holsmon’s head bobbed in her hold; Hikari thought he looked a little embarrassed. “Mi-Miyako-san…” he said.

“But, they’re Adults. This is the Kaiser’s territory,” Takeru said.

“We found these… things,” Iori said, “Digimentals. They can still digivolve if we use them.”

Taichi let out a soft huff. “Lucky. Any more of these Digimentals?”

“Not at that temple,” Iori said, shaking his head.

“Damn,” Taichi muttered.

Hikari took a second look at Holsmon, feeling her eyes widen in surprise when she finally noticed the Crest of Love on his head armor. She clutched at her new digivice as the realization struck her like lightning. “Those Digimentals… did they have Crests on them?”

Takeru made a soft ‘ah’ sound. “You think?” he asked. She nodded over at him.

“That’s what Takenouchi-san called them,” Iori said.

“Though, she couldn’t pick up the one with hers on it,” Miyako added, “I had to.”

“You picked up the Crest of Love?” Taichi asked. Miyako nodded in agreement.

Hikari shared a look with Tailmon, who shrugged up at her. She looked back over at Miyako, “How do you use them?”

“Um, I just said, ‘Digimental Up’.”

“Well, it's worth a shot,” Takeru said, looking over at her, “Worst case scenario, nothing happens and we look dumb.”

“Eh, wait, did you find one?” Miyako asked.

Hikari didn’t answer, instead looking down at Tailmon as she said, “Digimental Up.” Immediately, the familiar bright light of evolution blinded her; when her eyes cleared again, both Tailmon ad Patamon had digivolved.

“Oh, look, you were right.” Takeru looked over at them all with a cheerful smile and said brightly, “We don’t have to walk now.”

Hikari laughed a little. Miyako cheered and jumped forward so she could wrap her arms around Hikari’s neck. “Oh, that’s so cool,” she said, “This is great.”

“That’s four of the Crests accounted for,” Taichi noted, “We have a way to fight back now.”

“Another day though,” Hikari said, “We really need to rest.”

Taichi nodded agreement. Nefertimon came up to nudge against her side; Hikari immediately lifted a hand to rub against Nefertimon’s neck. “I can carry you and Taichi-san,” Nefertimon said.

“I can take Takeru and Agumon,” Pegasmon added.

“Wait, where’s Strabimon?” Iori asked. 

Hikari focused on the hand that was rubbing against Nefertimon’s neck. No one else seemed to want to answer either. The silence seemed to be answer enough for Iori though. He let out a quiet little, “Oh.”

“We’ll tell you later,” Taichi said, voice tight, “Let’s just go home.”

“Okay,” Miyako whispered.

Hikari climbed onto Nefertimon’s back, helping Taichi climb on behind her. Taichi turned his head to watch as Agumon scrambled awkwardly up on top of Pegasmon. “You okay there, buddy?” he called.

“Fine,” Agumon shouted back.

Pegasmon tossed his head, eyes amused as Agumon settled. After everyone settled, wings lifted all around and they took off. 

As they flew over the tree line, Hikari nudged Nefertimon closer to where Digmon was flying at Taichi’s direction. Taichi immediately began to ask Iori what had happened with his group; Hikari listened with half an ear, eyes focused on the horizon. The forest stretched out beneath them, interrupted only by sudden rises of hills and cliffs. The distant plains just past the forest did not look as lucky. Black towers and ugly factories split the horizon. 

Hikari leaned down a little so she could speak to Nefertimon without interrupting Taichi and Iori. “The Kaiser’s work?” she asked as she pointed towards those distant structures.

Nefertimon nodded. “Built and run by his slaves.” Hikari sighed heavily, causing Nefertimon to attempt to look up at her. “Don’t worry, Hikari. We’ll fix it.”

“Yeah, we will,” she agreed.

She didn’t see what happened next, as focused on the horizon as she was, but suddenly Miyako screamed and Holsmon crumbled. Hikari snapped her focus around to see Miyako falling rapidly, completely knocked off Holsmon. Without thinking, she dug her knees into Nefertimon and they immediately dove after Miyako. Taichi’s arms slung around her waist, tight enough to cut off her air; she didn’t give it any thought as they plunged. She leaned sideways so she could grab hold of Miyako’s hand. Both of Miyako’s hands immediately clamped around her wrist and Nefertimon’s wings heaved them upwards.

They held in the air for a second before the weight of three bodies began to drag Nefertimon down. Her wings beat furiously as she tried to stay aloft. Hikari saw, out of the corner of her eye, the great cloud of dust where Holsmon slammed into the ground, followed immediately by the light of dedigivolution. Miyako’s eyes were huge as she looked up at them, still screaming. Hikari’s shoulder felt like it was going to be yanked out of its socket.

Nefertimon hit the ground at a somewhat controlled fall. The impact jarred her off. She rolled, losing her grip on Miyako, though Taichi remained tight against her back. The minute they stopped rolling, Hikari sat up and looked around. “Nefertimon?” she called, “Miyako-chan? Taichi?”

“I’m alright, Hikari,” Nefertimon said, pushing herself back to her feet and shaking herself off.

Taichi patted her gently on the arm as he pushed himself up next to her.

Hikari caught sight of Miyako throwing herself to her feet, stumbling briefly, and running towards where Holsmon had fallen. “Holsmon!” Miyako shouted, voice breaking.

Hikari hurried after her as soon as she got her feet under her again. Miyako fell to her knees and gently picked up Hawkmon, cradling him to her chest.”Are you okay?” she asked.

Hawkmon looked up at, dazed, eyes unfocused. “Miyako-san?”

“I’m here,” Miyako reassured.

Digmon and Pegasmon landed next to them. “What happened?” Takeru demanded.

“I don’t know,” Miyako said, looking up at them with wide, wet eyes. “Something slammed into us. But I didn’t see what it was.”

“I did,” Iori said. He looked as shaken as Miyako. “Sort of, at least. There was this big, blue… thing. It was so fast I didn’t get a good look. It hit her, then it was gone.”

Hikari felt a chill run down her spine and, sharing a look with Taichi, knew he thought the same. “The Knight,” they both said.

“What?” Miyako asked, voice a little horrified.

“We saw him,” Hikari explained, “A blue dragon digimon. He killed Strabimon. It happened so fast.”

That’s when the shadow fell over them. Hikari looked up, her throat going dry when she actually saw them. The Knight was hovering only 15 feet over the ground, the boy perched on his back. As soon as he had their attention, the boy waved jauntily. “Yo,” he said.

Hikari stepped in front of Miyako, hiding her and Hawkmon from him, though she doubted it did them much good. They were currently standing on the mostly flat, rocky peak of a hill, putting them in an area empty of trees; the Knight had probably planned for them to land there.

“You know,” the boy said, oddly jovial, “I thought I’d lost you for a while there.”

“You killed Strabimon,” Taichi accused, glaring upwards fiercely.

The boy shrugged. “Yep,” he said, popping the ‘p’ obnoxiously. Hikari grit her teeth, hands clenching. The boy continued, “He shouldn’t have gotten in my way.”

“Your way?” Takeru repeated. “So you are the Kaiser than.”

There was an odd moment of silence, then the boy said, “...Yes, alright. Sure. I’m the Kaiser.” He stood up, balancing with ease on the digimon’s shoulder. “Now, let’s talk.”

“We have nothing to say to you,” Taichi said fiercely. Agumon, having scrambled down from Pegasmon as soon as the two appeared, stood defiantly in front of Taichi.

The Kaiser sighed. “Come on Yagami. Let’s make this easy on all of us. Surrender now, skip the whole ‘war’ thing.”

“Never going to happen,” Taichi said fiercely.

“We’ll see.”

Seeing the Kaiser’s attention seemed to be completely on Taichi, Hikari shifted and peeked back over her shoulder at Miyako. “How soon can he digivolve again?” she asked in a soft whisper.

“Eh?”

“We have an advantage of numbers,” she said and watched Miyako’s eyes brighten in understanding.

“Hawkmon?” she asked.

“Just give me a minute,” Hawkmon said. He was sitting up in Miyako’s arms, making a visible effort to shake off his daze. 

“We’ll buy you the time,” Hikari agreed. She shared a look with Takeru, still perched on Pegasmon; Takeru nodded in agreement and she saw his hands tighten in Pegasmon’s mane. 

She took a deep breath and ran for Nefertimon; she threw herself onto Nefertimon’s back just as the wings lifted. They were in the air in seconds, Pegasmon and Takeru just a second behind her.

“Hikari!” Taichi shouted.

They climbed until they were even with the dragon. The Kaiser watched them approach with his head cocked a little to the side. Hikari watched his head turn between the two of them. “Oh,” he said after a minute, something like realization, almost recognition, in his voice.

“What?” Hikari demanded.

“Oh, nothing,” The Kaiser shrugged easily, appearing unconcerned at facing down two of them. This close, Hikari realized what was so strange with his clothes. He was wearing armor; not full armor, just a chest plate, greaves, and gauntlets. They were black, designed for battle instead of ornamentation, and had seen obvious use. They were layered over casual clothes, nothing more than a long-sleeved, thick shirt and jeans. Over it all, a black long coat. “So, what’s the little Yagami going to do?”

“How do you know my name?” she demanded.

“A good question,” The Kaiser said, lips twisting into another smirk. His eyes gleamed through his mask, a brown pale enough to be gold-like.

Hikari shared another look with Takeru. “On your mark,” he said quietly. Hikari turned her attention back to the Knight and Kaiser, took a deep breath, and pressed her knees gently into Nefertimon’s side. Nefertimon immediately charged the two, Pegasmon only a half second behind her. 

The Knight dropped beneath the attack, wings snapping to full as he spun around to face them again. The Kaiser barely budged at all, despite the abrupt movement. The Kaiser smiled widely as his digimon stilled. “What do you think, XV-mon?” he asked, “Think we can take them?”

A wide grin split XV-mon’s face; it was a surprisingly honest smile, untainted by malice or hate, just plain, simple joy. “We can try,” XV-mon said. The Kaiser laughed, a childish sound, matched in purity to XV-mon’s smile. Hikari’s stomach lurched in disbelief.

Then the Kaiser smirked again, lips twisting, and that illusion of innocence vanished. Hikari didn’t even have time to brace herself before XV-mon was right in front of her. He slashed at Nefertimon, claws slamming into her side; the impact sent them spinning, Nefertimon’s wings scrunched closed from the force. Hikari tried to dig her fingers into the fur but she was almost immediately thrown from Nefertimon’s back. She plummeted swiftly, wind pounding in her ears; her stomach disappeared somewhere with her lungs, leaving her unable to gasp in any air.

Iori caught her. Digmon surged up beneath her and Iori’s arms wrapped around her stomach to catch her. The force of her fall slammed them both back against Digmon but Iori’s hold never faltered, keeping her close and steady. There was no air left in her to be knocked out, but she struggled for several seconds to regain her breath. Digmon landed, the two of them still clutched in his arms, whole body bowing over them to protect them.

“Iori? Hikari-san?” Digmon asked.

“I’m okay,” she managed. She pulled out of Iori’s hold, patting one hand against Digmon’s chest plating. “Wonderful catch.”

“Aw, it was nothing,” Digmon muttered.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Iori said.

She nodded and slid to the ground. Taichi was immediately in her face, arms wrapping around her. “Jesus, if you ever do that again, I’m going to kill you myself,” he said viciously. When he pulled back, his eyes were huge. “But you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” she assured. She looked around, found Nefertimon had managed to right herself and was flying around XV-mon with Pegasmon, distracting the Knight while she was vulnerable. She turned to look back at her rescues, “Iori.”

Iori nodded without her needing to say anything more and climbed from Digmon’s arms to his back. “On it,” he said, and Digmon flew up to join Nefertimon and Pegasmon.

XV-mon paused to examine his newest opponent. The Kaiser’s head tilted as he glanced between the three. “Those are armor evolutions, right?” he asked, “Where did you all find Digimentals?”

No one answered him; instead Pegasmon and Digmon flew forward to attack. Nefertimon drew back and used, “ _Curse of Queen!_ ”

XV-mon moved around Digmon and Pegasmon, though he took Nefertimon’s attack clean in the side. It spun them around, though the Kaiser wasn’t thrown off as Miyako and Hikari had been. XV-mon settled, looking around, his grin still in place; he didn’t seem at all concerned with being partially surrounded. 

Behind her, Hikari suddenly heard Miyako shout, “Digimental Up!”

There was a bright flash of light from behind her, then Holsmon flew over her to join the group. Miyako ran up to stand at her side. “He’s up, but I don’t know how long he was going to manage to stay in that form. He insisted on going as soon as he could.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll cover him,” Hikari promised.

Holsmon flew into the last place left, leaving XV-mon completely surrounded. The Kaiser looked around at all of them and sighed. “Well, this was fun, but it's time to go.” 

“ _X-Laser!_ ” 

Their digimon scattered beneath the attack; it just scraped past Takeru’s shoulders as they dodged. XV-mon moved as soon as the attack was launched, using their distraction to shoot straight upwards. Within seconds, he was high above them and with a twist of wings, they disappeared against the sky.

Hikari glared up, trying futilely to pick them out from the clear sky above. After a minute, she sighed and gave up, turning to everyone else as they gathered. Nefertimon immediately moved to Hikari’s side. “Are you okay?” she asked.

“I’m fine. Little bruised but otherwise, I’m good.” she assured.

Holsmon landed easily, then collapsed in a half-controlled manner to his stomach. Soon after, he dedigivolved; Miyako immediately swooped Hawkmon up into her arms, holding him close.

“So,” Takeru said, sliding off Pegasmon, “That was the Kaiser.”

“He was testing us,” Iori said. His eyebrows were drawn together; he was frowning at the ground.

“Yeah,” Taichi agreed, “And he slready seems to know way too much as it is.”

“Let’s go home,” Hikari said.

Takeru pointed at her, “I like that plan. Best plan yet. How far are we from the gate?”

“Not far,” Pegasmon said, “Maybe five to ten minutes on foot.”

“Let’s go on foot,” Miyako said, Hawkmon still cradled to her chest.

“Agreed,” Hikari said. Patting Nefertimon on the head, they began the walk to the gate.

*****

“I heard you did something stupid today,” was the first thing Yamato said when Taichi opened the front door.

Taichi sighed heavily. “Goddamnit, Sora,” he muttered. He stepped aside so Yamato could enter, closing the door behind him.

Yamato slipped off his shoes then paused as he glanced over at Taichi. He peered at Taichi closely, then reached out a hand to grasp his chin. Yamato turned his head back and forth under the apartment lighting, frowning at the numerous cuts he had. “What happened to your face?” 

“Got tossed by a Monochromon. Flew about seven feet,” Taichi said, letting Yamato examine him as he wanted. “It was fun.”

Yamato released him; his eyebrows were still scrunched together and he looked very annoyed. Which was all a mask, Taichi knew; it took a lot of pushing before Yamato actually showed how worried he was. And Taichi was willing to bet there was a lot of worry. “If you’d called for backup from the beginning-”

“I know,” Taichi cut him off, “I’ve heard it all from Sora.”

“Good.” Yamato sighed, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He looked down towards the floor and some of his concern splintered through when he asked, “How’s Takeru? He said he was fine on the phone but…”

“He is,” Taichi assured, “Sprinted about six and a half kilometers at a dead run, so he’s going to be regretting life tomorrow. But he’s otherwise fine.”

Tension immediately fell from the line of Yamato’s shoulders. He stood still for a moment, breathing out relief, then began to walk into the apartment proper. “How bad is it?”

Weight dropped onto his shoulders as he recalled the army of Ringed digimon, Strabimon’s death, watching uselessly as Hikari toppled through the air. “...Bad,” he admitted, voice tight with exhaustion and remembered fear.

“You okay?” Yamato asked.

Taichi glanced over at him but didn’t answer, instead continuing into his living room. Everyone else was already waiting. Hikari and Takeru were sitting on the couches, legs stretched out in front of them; he thought Hikari had dozed off. Hida was sitting next to Hikari, looking around, attempting to keep track of every one of the many conversations around him. Their digimon partners were resting in their laps. Inoue was talking cheerfully with Koushiro, hands petting carefully through Poromon’s short fur. Sora was speaking with Mimi, attempting calm and patience, but he could see she was anxious, thoughts running too fast. Jou was had a textbook open in his lap, because he always had a textbook these days, but his attention was on the rest of the group.

“Yamato’s here,” Taichi said as he moved to sit next to Sora.

Takeru perked up, smiling up at his older brother. Yamato sat down next to him immediately; Taichi gave them a few seconds to catch up, settle in, then leaned forward and braced his arms on his knees. “Alright, let’s get this started.”

The whole group turned to look at him immediately; Jou even closed his book. That was a big honor these days. “Right, first things first. This is Inoue Miyako and Hida Iori. They’re our new Chosen.” He waved around at the rest of the group, who quickly introduced themselves. Then he explained what had happened, everything he knew about the situation in the Digital World. When he finished, the group was silent for a long moment. 

“Shit,” Yamato said finally, rubbing at his forehead.

“So,” Jou said, leaning forward thoughtfully, “We need these Digimentals if we’re going to be any help at all.”

“Even if we find them though, that’s no guarantee we can use them. Sora-san couldn’t pick up the Crest of Love, after all,” Koushiro said.

There was another moment of silence as they all considered that. “So, there’s nothing we can do?” Mimi asked.

“That’s not true,” Hikari said immediately, “The Chosen simply being there seemed to help.”

Mimi smiled over at her. “Thanks, Hikari-chan.”

“Still, seems like we’re going to be relying on you four for a while,” Yamato said.

“We’ll do what we can,” Hida assured. He still had that laser like focus, despite the long events of the day, expression solemn and intent.

“Thank you, Hida-kun,” Jou said.

“So, these Babies you rescued, where are they now?” Koushiro asked.

“My house,” Sora said, “They were sleeping when I left.”

“We’ll see tomorrow if we can’t get them back to the Village of Beginnings,” Taichi said.

Yamato nodded in agreement, “Alright. Any other business?”

“I don’t think so,” Sora said, looking over at Taichi for confirmation.

Taichi didn’t answer immediately, thinking over the day’s events. “There is one last thing,” he said eventually. He glanced up, found everyone watching him patiently. Yamato was doing that hiding-concern thing with his eyebrows again. “I can’t lead this team. Jou’s right, without a Digimental, there’s nothing we can do.”

“Taichi,” Hikari tried and that was as far as he let her get.

“I was useless today. All I could do was stand there and watch. And he was messing with us. In a serious battle, Agumon and I are going to be just one big target. I can’t lead the team like that.” He glanced briefly over the entire group, spent a bit longer on the four with Digimentals, then focused solely on Hikari. “I want you to lead them.”

Hikari sputtered, eyes wide.

“I’m fine with that,” Takeru said with an immediacy that made Taichi wonder how long he’d been expecting that. 

“Now, now wait a minute.” Hikari managed to find her voice. “Why me? Takeru’s been Chosen longer than I have.”

“It’s not about experience,” Taichi said, “You took charge out there today.”

“I agree,” Hida said, “You were good out there.”

“Come on, Hikari-chan,” Inoue urged.

Tailmon shifted in her lap, butting up against her hands. “You can do it, Hikari.”

“I- alright, if you’re all willing to follow.”

“Of course,” Takeru assured, grinning brightly.

Hikari looked back at Taichi and nodded shyly. Taichi smiled at her before looking up at the rest of the group. “Anything else?” Denials came from all around. “Then this meeting’s officially over.”

Mimi immediately launched from her place next to Sora to swoop Hikari up in a hug. “Oh look at you, all grown up and leading your own team,” she gushed. Hikari laughed as she hugged back.

Taichi stood, left Hikari to receiving her congraduations. Yamato stepped up next to him and nodded Hikari’s way. “She’ll do fine. It was good choice.”

Taichi blinked at him. “Did you… just compliment one of my decisions? Are you feeling okay?”

“I’m serious.” Yamato scowled.

“I know.” He looked over at Hikari again. “I know she’ll do fine. You don’t need to tell me that. And, you won’t get to yell at me when Takeru gets hurt anymore.”

“Oh, I’m still going to yell at you.” Yamato assured.

Taichi sighed. “I know.”

Slowly, one by one, everyone left. Taichi found Hikari sitting on the couch after he finished escorting Koushiro, the last to leave, to the door. She was staring at her hands, Tailmon curled back her shoulders. Taichi sat down next to her. “Hey,” he said gently.

“You really think I can do this?”

“Yeah, of course. You’ve got good instincts, Hikari. You’ll be fine.” He hesitated a second, then tugged off his goggles. He nudged her gently with his elbow. “Team leader now, you should have these.”

She looked at the goggles he was holding out, blinked several times, and half shook her head in confusion. “Wh- why?”

“It’s tradition.”

“Since when?”

“Since I decided so, just now.” Taichi grinned at her exasperated expression. “Come on, just take them.”

“I’m not wearing them,” she said, but she took them anyway, “This is a purely symbolic gesture.”

“Oh, fine.”

Hikari fiddled with the goggles for a second, turning them over and over in her hands. Finally she looked back up at him. “Thank you.”

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, careful not to dislodge Tailmon and tugged her in until she was leaning fully against him. He pressed a kiss to her crown. “No problem. You deserve it.”


	2. By Blood or Merit

Takeru was laughing at her.

Okay, he wasn’t laughing at her, not really. He was putting remarkable effort into biting his tongue. But she could see the amusement in his eyes. She wasn’t going to ask.

She wasn’t.

“What?” she asked. She kept her eyes on the horizon, the sky, the surrounding empty plateau. The Kaiser’s Ringed digimon had a habit of appearing suddenly from nothing in the two weeks her team had been visiting. None of them managed quite the fierce, heartstopping appearance of the Kaiser and his Knight, but Hikari had learned not to trust that they were safe just because the area seemed clear.

“It’s just, I thought you weren’t going to wear them,” Takeru said. His voice was layered with mirth.

Hikari sighed. Her brother’s goggles sat like an anchor around her neck; it was the first time she’d worn them so the weight was still unfamiliar. She couldn’t shake a constant awareness of them, the pressure against her neck, the shift cloth over her skin. “Well, we spent Thursday in that sandstorm and I kept thinking to myself, ‘you know what would be useful right now. Goggles. Goggles would be great.’”

Takeru laughed a little. “Does Taichi-san know yet?”

“He saw this morning. And no, he hasn’t shut up about it.” Taichi had, in fact, lit up like a New Year’s firework when he’d seen her. It had been adorable before he’d opened his mouth.

“I think you look very nice,” Pegasmon said brightly.

She grinned, fiddled with the band of the goggles. “Thank you, Pegasmon,” she said. Pegasmon made a quiet sound of happiness in the back of his throat. She saw Takeru lean down to whisper something to him, which caused Pegasmon to throw his head back, laughing.

Hikari turned her full attention forward again, took in the empty landscape around her. The area around them was good, but as always, she could see signs of the Kaiser’s empire off in the distance. No matter how many Rings they destroyed, how many factories they cleared then leveled, there was always more off in the distance. _I suppose that’s what happens when you’re three years late to a war_ , she thought.

Holsmon glided down from his high perch above the rest of the group until he was level with Nefertimon. She knew that, really, they weren’t supposed to fly in the Kaiser’s territory, but every member of the team was a flier; besides, the landscape was empty enough right now that being on the ground wouldn’t exactly give them cover. Miyako asked, “Are we heading home now or…?”

Hikari considered it. Those factories and towers in the distance itched at her. But they’d already taken out one factory today, freed the slaves that worked there. It was good work for a day, their digimon were tiring, and she knew from experience that the Empire had a ridiculous response time. If they lingered in the area, tried to take out more, they’d meet more resistance than the four of them could safely handle.

So, despite the guilty drop of her stomach, she said, “Let’s head home for today.”

They’d be back tomorrow, destroy something else before the Kaiser could rebuild, and, bit by bit, take back the Digital World. It would take forever with the amount of territory the Kaiser had seized; they’d just have to resign themselves to a long war.

Their flight path changed for the nearest gate at her words.

“No sign of _him_ again,” Miyako said, poison in her voice.

Hikari didn’t know if she was referring to the Knight or the Kaiser, thought perhaps she was talking about both. “That’s a good thing, remember,” she said, “The Knight’s still a lot stronger than us. We’ll need a lot more experience before we’re ready to face him again.”

“Yeah, but,” Miyako trailed off, eyes on her fists. Her expression was equal parts fear and rage.

“I know,” Hikari agreed, because she did get it. The attack on Holsmon during their first visit had shaken Miyako in a way none of the succeeding battles had managed. Miyako wasn’t going to be forgetting it quickly. But while Hikari could emphasis with that mix of fury and concern, she also had to consider the good of the whole team. And not even one of them was strong enough to win a fight against XV-mon.

Miyako made a sad sound of agreement next to her then leaned down so she could wrap both arms around Holsmon’s neck.

“Where do you think they are?” Iori asked. “We should have seen them at least one more time by now, right?”

“It’s possible we’re just getting very lucky,” Takeru said, “It’s a big world and the Kaiser owns a lot of it. From what we heard in the clearing, it also seems like he’s managing a life in the Human World as well. We might be just missing each other.”

Hikari hummed non-committedly, didn’t say the other likely possibility. That they weren’t considered a big enough threat yet for XV-mon to come after them personally. Sure, they were destroying bits of his territory, but from the size of the Empire, they’d barely made a dent. And they certainly hadn’t put up an impressive enough showing last time for the Kaiser to have to consider them an immediate problem.

“If we knew where his base was, we could just take a gate there and be done with this,” Miyako muttered into Holsmon’s feathers.

“Right into the heart of his territory?” Iori asked. One eyebrow rose up skeptically.

“Let me dream!” Miyako shouted back.

Iori huffed, a deeply amused sound, and started smiling.

“Actually, finding out who he is in the Human World would probably be our best bet for a quick end,” Takeru said.

Miyako perked up immediately at the suggestion. “Then we could track him down and punch him in the face when he doesn’t have XV-mon.” She smacked one fist into an open palm as if to demonstrate.

“Sure, yeah,” Takeru agreed, peaceable smile on his face, “I was going to go with something a little less violent, but okay.”

Hikari laughed a little as they began to descend to the ground near the gate. “Lets’ focus on chipping away at his territory for now,” she said, “And worry about doing that later. We’re done for the day.”

“Got it,” Takeru said.

Hikari paused before the gate, a thought occurring to her. She turned back to her team. “Ah, Taichi offered to take us out for lunch today. If you all want to.”

Miyako lit up, eyes shining like stars. “Really?”

“Yeah. He said it's for all the hard work we’ve been doing. I think he kind of feels bad for not being to help.”

“I’m game!” Miyako shouted, practically before she’d finished speaking. Her hand waved in the air excitedly, grin huge and splitting.

When both Iori and Takeru agreed as well, Hikari said, “I’ll call Taichi on the other side, get directions.” She paused and looked between the digimon. They were silent but watching her with wide, pleading eyes. “We’ll all make sure to order lots of take away for you, promise.”

*****

Taichi, when they met up with him, was talking to a young man Takeru didn’t recognize. Takeru hesitated, squinting at him like that would help him recognize the other boy. Takeru had assumed Taichi had wanted to talk to the team about how they were managing in the Digital World; at the very least, he knew Hikari wanted to talk over plans with him. Taichi wouldn’t have brought someone not in the know.

He tried to share a look with Hikari, but her attention was on her brother and his friend; he couldn’t be sure, but he thought there was a definite look of recognition to her. He looked back at the two, took another look at the young man; if Hikari knew the boy, chances were high Takeru had met him at least once.

The boy stood shorter than Taichi, looked to be about Takeru’s age, and had dark red hair that spiked up in a way similar to Taichi’s. As Takeru examined him, the boy glanced their way, almost as if he sensed the eyes on him. For a split second, Takeru had the oddest sensation of recognition, combined with a cool dropping sense of dread, as almost gold eyes focused on him.

Then the boy smiled, wide and sunny, and raised one hand to wave. The dread and accompanied recognition shattered. “Yo, Hikari!”

Hikari laughed, equally sunny, and waved back, pace picking up considerably until she was standing in front of him. “Daisuke-kun. What are you doing here?”

“Was passing through, saw Taichi, stopped to talk.” Daisuke paused and Takeru watched as he looked her up and down. Almost immediately, he started smiling and laughing. “Oh no, no, Hikari, no. Tell me those aren’t his goggles. Why? Is it infectious?”

Hikari just laughed again, reached out to shove him; Daisuke rocked back, still grinning. “Shut up. I remember when you used to wear goggles.”

“I remember being ten years old and stupid. You’re supposed to be better than me.”

Taichi was the one to reach out and shove him this time; Daisuke didn’t budge at all. “Hey! I feel like I should be insulted here.”

Before Daisuke could respond, Miyako suddenly leaned forward, right up in his face. Daisuke drew back a bit, one eyebrow cocking, more in confusion than any surprise or nervousness, as Miyako examined him intensely. She frowned up at him for a second before her face dropped with shock. “Motomiya-kun?” she asked, all surprise.

Daisuke grinned at her and waved a little. “Hello.”

Miyako laughed with building glee. To Takeru’s great surprise, Miyako suddenly bridged the last bit of distance and engulfed Daisuke in a hug. Daisuke’s eyes, if possible got even wider; after a second of standing there frozen, he hesitantly returned the hug. “Motomiya-kun! It’s been years,” Miyako said.

“Miyako-san, he doesn’t know who you are,” Iori said drily.

Miyako drew back immediately, clapping one hand over her mouth in embarrassment. “Oh my god,” she said in a tiny squeak, “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Daisuke said. He paused for a minute in obvious thought before he said hesitantly, “Miyako… Inoue? Our sisters were friends.”

“That’s right! It’s been so long.”

Daisuke’s grin was bright and huge. He looked over the whole group, eyes narrowed as he examined them all. “Actually, think I know all of you,” he said after a moment, “Though it's been a while. Iori, good to see you again.”

Iori twitched a bit at the casual address, before he sighed and nodded at Daisuke. “You haven’t changed.”

“Oh, I doubt that’s true at all,” Daisuke said, an utterly amused smile slipping across his face. Then, Daisuke’s eyes suddenly focused on him. There was a minute pause before Daisuke said, snapping his finger, “Takaishi.”

Takeru started a little at being addressed. Embarrassed heat creeped up his neck as attention turned to him and he had to struggle not to shift uncomfortably. He examined the other boy again, not wanting to be the only one who apparently didn’t remember him. After a second, he had a flash of memory, of a short boy with dark eyes who seemed almost constantly angry with him. “I remember you. You were, um…”

“I was an ass,” Daisuke said, easy and bright, “Sorry about that. I, uh, I was a stupid kid and I had this _massive_ crush on Hikari, and you two were really close so.” Daisuke shrugged.

Takeru laughed, couldn’t help it; there was a sunny, easy glee to Daisuke that invited everyone to share in it. “It’s fine.” Takeru made his voice as solemn as possible when he said, “I forgive you.”

Daisuke snorted a laugh, shook his head briefly. “Let’s try this whole thing again, yeah?” He held out his hand.

“Yeah, okay.” Takeru took his hand to shake it. Daisuke’s hand was dry and rough, covered in numerous callouses that scratched against Takeru’s skin. He looked down in surprise; Daisuke’s hand was heavily tanned, showed signs of hard physical work. His knuckles were covered in a heavy knot of scarring. They were a little off center, like they’d been broken at least once.

Takeru blinked in surprise, his own hands aching in sympathetic, imagined pain. When he let go, Daisuke easily linked his hands behind his head, still grinning. Despite that Takeru had been blatantly staring, Daisuke didn’t look fazed, or even embarrassed in the slight. His eyes were cool as metal, oddly focused on him. Takeru suddenly felt like he was standing on a knife’s edge, ready to fall to either side, waiting on judgement by that sharp _thing_ lurking in Daisuke’s eyes.

Then Hikari said, voice almost wistful, “I remember when you had that crush on me. It was one hell of a thing.”

Daisuke’s attention shifted, the sharp focus shattered. No, Takeru thought, watching him, the focus didn’t shatter, but it was veiled. Hidden beneath his inviting smile, like he had deliberately and consciously softened himself. “It’s too late to get me now, Hikari,” he said, grin so bright and teasing, “I’ve moved on. Could of had me wrapped around your finger but no.”

Hikari shook her head. “You’re hopeless.” Daisuke bowed in response, a wide, exaggerated movement that took up all the space around him. “God, I feel sorry for whoever dates you.”

“Didn’t you have a boyfriend in chuugaku?” Miyako asked. She was looking up in thought, tongue sticking out a little. “I… remember my sister complaining about your sister complaining about it. It sounded pretty epic.”

For a second, Daisuke’s whole being seemed to falter. His eyes fell to the ground, his arms fell back to his sides. His shoulders slumped. All the cheer bled out of him like he’d taken the words as a physical blow.

Taichi said loudly, “Right, I promised to take you all to lunch.”

The words snapped Takeru’s eyes to Taichi out of sheer surprise at the volume. He looked back at Daisuke, barely a second later, and found Daisuke smiling, hands stuffed in his pockets, like that second of misery had never happened. Takeru looked at Taichi again; Taichi’s own smile was a little too wide to be natural and Takeru suddenly wondered if that grab of attention had been deliberate.

A glance at Hikari showed she was looking between the two, eyes narrowed. Well, at least he wasn’t getting paranoid.

Daisuke shifted so he was facing Taichi a bit more. Everything from the positioning of his hands to the slump of his spine was casual in a way Takeru couldn’t find much lie to, and yet didn’t believe for a second. “And I,” Daisuke said with all that cheer back, “have to go finish fixing a small mess back home.”

“Need any help?” Hikari asked, still staring at Daisuke with narrowed eyes.

“Nope.” Daisuke popped his ‘p’. “It’s just a small mess. More of an annoyance than what I’d call a problem. Shouldn’t take me long to fix.” His smile shifted, twisted, until he was almost smirking. His eyes were rich with amusement. Takeru got the impression there was a great, wonderful joke that he wasn’t being let in on.

Then Takeru blinked and that sunny smile was back in place. He stared, feeling like he’d been shoved a little off-kilter, as Daisuke waved and walked away. He couldn’t help but point after the retreating boy. “That was weird. Right?” He wasn’t sure what exactly had been weird about the whole thing, only that it felt like he’d heard every word and missed half the conversation.

“He usually is,” Taichi said, expression fond.

“How do you know him?” Miyako asked.

“Oh, soccer. He’s freakishly good. We played together in shougaku and kind of kept in touch after I left. Guess I kind of took him under my wing. He’s a good kid.” Taichi’s fond expression deepened with every word. Then there was a pause after he finished and the expression dropped away into something a little sad, a little wistful.

“What’s wrong?” Iori asked immediately.

“Nothing. I just keep thinking, if there’s going to be a new generation of Chosen, it’s a shame he isn’t part of it. He’d love it.”

“Well, it’s not like we’d say no to more people on the team,” Miyako said, “I always feel outnumbered.”

Taichi grimaced. “Yeah, sorry about that. Wish I could be out there.”

There was a second of silence before Hikari stepped forward and gently placed her hand on Taichi’s shoulder. She leaned forward like she was going to share a great secret and said, “We get it. He’s kind of like your protege. But I know there’s enough similarities between you two without him being Chosen. Any more and it's going to start getting freaky.”

Taichi laughed, a full body of sound, and motioned them to start walking. “Come on, let’s buy you all food already. I know this great place around the corner.”

Their group ended up tucked into one of the corner’s, which allowed them to huddle away from the other customers and not worry about watching their words. “How is it going?” Taichi asked once they sat down.

Takeru glanced over his menu, scanning quickly for any meals with egg. Tokomon preferred eggs and they all had promised their partners leftovers. Takeru didn’t want to deal with Tokomon’s sad eyes if he didn’t bring back a lot of food. Those eyes made him feel like he’d kicked every digimon in the Village of Beginnings.

He only glanced up when Hikari didn’t answer. She was frowning at her menu, eyes a little unfocused. After another second of silence, Miyako said, too loudly, “It’s going great.”

Another silence as Taichi awkwardly glanced between the whole group. Takeru coughed a little, reaching for his water.

“Slowly,” Hikari said finally. “We’re wiping out some of his holdings but he has so much…. At least we’re managing to avoid the main parts of his army. We seem to be slipping under his security for the most part.”

“That’s good,” Taichi said. Taichi looked Hikari over, eyes sharp, and Takeru could do little other than watch them. After a minute, Taichi’s inspection broadened to the team as a whole and he smiled to ease the cut of his eyes. “Koushiro’s been really busy organizing a lot of projects to help out. Last I heard, he was talking to Tentomon about setting up searches for more Digimentals, checking for rumors and such. Hopefully it won’t just be the four of you for long.”

“He told me about that!” Miyako said excitedly, “About the search algorithms and such! It's all pretty advanced. He said that the hard part is that he can’t really search the Digital World for any sort of signal unless he’s in the Digital World. And we’d really need a more localized area of interest before we start dragging our digivices everywhere looking.”

Hikari nodded, “Running around wildly will just get us into trouble with the Kaiser’s slaves eventually.”

“What would be helpful,” Iori said, voice low and thoughtful, “Is if we could figure out how he’s blocking digivolution. See if we can’t undo it somehow.”

“Do you think we could?” Takeru asked.

“I don’t see why not. Between Izumi-san and Miyako-san, we have excellent programmers on the team.” Iori frowned down at his own glass of water, reaching out to swirl the water thoughtfully. “We’d have to identify what’s causing the restriction, then design a counter. Since the restriction is only within his territories, it has to be something he brings in with him. And it can’t take long to set up; he’d need it to gain quick control over a territory once his armies move through. Maybe a radio signal of some sort.”

“...The towers,” Hikari said.

The group turned to look at her. “What towers?” Taichi asked.

“There are these black towers throughout his territory. They don’t seem to have any purpose that I can see; they’re just solid black stone. I thought before that they were territory markers, you know, like flags and signposts. Just more… aesthetic.”

“Well, he does have a certain look going for him, I’ll give him that,” Takeru said, just to cheer Hikari up a little. As he expected, some of the stress left her face and she huffed a laugh. She shook her head, lips pressed together so she didn’t smile and encourage him. Which was too late; he’d known her for long enough to know when she was hiding amusement and he was encouraged.

“If it is these towers, we should look into them,” Iori said, bringing the seriousness of the conversation back.

Hikari made a quiet hum of agreement. “I think there’s a tower not far from where we were today. We can go back, make sure the Kaiser hasn’t started any inroads to regaining that territory, then check out the tower. Is everyone free for the same time tomorrow?”

Confirmations went all around the table. Taichi watched them, smile half-hidden behind his cupped hands. “Well, seems like you’ve got everything under control,” he said, pride evident in his voice. Hikari flushed at the tone, shoulders going a little straighter in response. Taichi continued, “Now, why don’t we talk about something else? I’m sure you’ve all had enough of the Digital World today.”

*****

Yesterday, the facility they had destroyed had been left in piles of rubble and broken machinery. Now the sight stood empty of any sign of its existence.

“I don’t understand,” Miyako said.

Hikari had only meant to fly the team past the sight. Check to make sure the Kaiser’s forces hadn’t started reclaiming that portion of territory yet. It was a common part of their routine by now; they’d done it enough she hadn’t actually expected any change.

“They must have cleaned it up. Scavenged for parts, anything they can reuse,” Iori said. He walked through the sand, sometimes kicking it up with his feet as if something might be buried underneath. He was covering a lot of ground as he did so but hadn’t yet found even a trace. One hand pressed against Digmon’s armour, ready to propel him onto his partner’s back at the slightest hint of a threat. “They were very thorough.”

“I don’t think we’ve seen the Kaiser react that fast before,” Takeru said.

Four days had been the quickest response before now. “So either this place was important to the Empire,” Hikari said.

“I didn’t see anything special about it,” Miyako said immediately.

“Nor were there that many guards,” Holsmon added.

“Or we’re moving into a more densely populated part of his territory, where arranging a scavenging crew so quickly wouldn’t be a problem.” They’d been hugging what they thought was the outskirts of his territory, even though they could technically gate into any part of the Digital World they wanted. Pushing past the front lines into stabilized territory ran too high a chance of being overpowered for anyone to be comfortable with.

“There’s nothing we can do about that, right?” Digmon asked, head swinging between gauging her and watching Iori. “It’s bound to happen eventually.”

Hikari didn’t answer immediately. It was bound to happen eventually. But was it too soon? Were they strong enough to take on a stabilized territory? With the ever more increased risk of the Knight snatching one of them out of the air? What if she waited too long, was too afraid to push back, and the Kaiser’s territory kept inching forwards despite their efforts?

Even if they pushed forward and managed to fight off resistance, it wouldn’t mean much. The Kaiser had a stranglehold on his territories and nothing they did seemed to pry his fingers lose. No matter what they destroyed, Ringed digimon would still appear in the area; not always, not in large numbers, just enough to remind everyone that the Kaiser was still a looming threat. Hikari couldn’t stop the spark of helplessness buried in her gut, the one that told her they weren’t moving fast enough and that any faster meant she would get her team killed from inexperience.

She hooked her fingers around the band of the goggles, let the weight against her neck still her thoughts. “Towers,” she said instead of the million thoughts racing through her mind, “I wanted to check out a tower.”

“Alright,” Nefertimon said immediately. Hikari looked up at the others, waiting for their agreement, and caught Takeru watching her hands. It wasn’t a negative look, nothing judgemental or disappointed or… anything. He just watched with an unnerving intensity.

Takeru’s eyes flickered up to her’s when he realized she was waiting for responses. He nodded, eyes never losing that look.

Before she could move to climb on Nefertimon, she caught a glint out of the corner of her eye. Something slammed into Takeru, battlecry rending the air. “ _V-mon Head!_ ”

Hikari saw a flash of bright blue as Takeru flew back and rolled as he hit the ground. Cold dread burst through her stomach, breath catching in her throat, as she scanned for the attacking digimon, praying her eyes were wrong and it wasn’t XV-mon. But no, it was just a Child digimon, watching them all with attentive eyes, legs squared.

Pegasmon leapt in front of Takeru, wings high and arched to make himself look bigger. “Takeru?” he asked.

Takeru stood back up slowly, one hand rubbing at his jaw. “‘M alright,” he assured.

The team squared off against the attacking digimon. “One of the Kaiser’s slaves?” Nefertimon asked, pacing in front of Hikari.

“Why send only one? And a Child at that?” Holsmon asked.

“Guys, he doesn’t have a Ring,” Miyako said.

Hikari examined the little blue digimon again and realized that Miyako was right; the digimon wasn’t wearing a Ring anywhere. Feeling a little more secure at the lack of a Ring, Hikari stepped forward, though unease still roiled in her gut. Nefertimon stayed firmly in front of her. “Listen, I know with the Kaiser, you might not trust humans anymore, but-”

“I know who you are,” the little digimon said.

“Then why attack us?” Pegasmon demanded. He hadn’t moved from his position of practically blocking Takeru from view, even though Takeru had gotten back up to his feet.

The answer didn’t come from the little digimon. “Yo,” a too familiar voice called. Hikari’s unease exploded into horror as Hikari looked towards the voice.

“You,” Iori said.

The Kaiser shrugged, waved jauntily. “Me.” He walked forward a few steps, until he was about even with the Child digimon. “Jeez, you guys are headache inducing. I’m getting really tired of cleaning up your messes.”

“Good,” Takeru said fiercely.

The Kaiser laughed. Despite his amusement, when he spoke, his voice was serious, “I have a mission to finish. I can’t keep detouring to deal with you wrecks, Chosen. Would you mind if we skipped to the part where I beat you and then boot you from the Digital World forever?”

“You’re awfully confident for someone who’s outnumbered,” Miyako said.

“I’ve been fighting this war for over two years. You think four Adults and some kids are going to scare me?” the Kaiser asked. Hikari frowned at the boy. Strabimon had said the war had started clear over three years ago, not two.

“If you’re trying to scare us, or impress us, you shouldn’t have brought a Child to fight four Adults,” Takeru said.

The Kaiser smirked, a lazy, arrogant curling of his mouth, and tilted his head down to look at the digimon with him. “This is V-mon,” he said and there was an unmistakable note of fondness in his voice. “You’ve met his Adult form. I wanted to catch you all before you took off, so didn’t bother to digivolve him before. Or did you really think I’d be so stupid as to not give myself an exception to the anti-digivolution protocols?”

Hikari closed her eyes against the light of V-mon digivolving; while it was still happening, she reached out blindly, managed to grasp a handful of Nefertimon’s fur, and yanked herself onto her back. By the time XV-mon stood before them, they were already moving.

XV-mon hurled himself into the air, just managing to skim over Holsmon’s dive. XV-mon flew in a tight, looping arc before plummeting back towards the ground at high speeds. Nefertimon and Pegasmon raced to meet him, light shining between them. “ _Sanctuary Bind!_ ” XV-mon dodged around the ensnaring rope; He swiped out with a clawed hand, caught Pegasmon against the flank.

Pegasmon wheeled back, wings flapping wildly, before he managed to shake off the pain. Takeru’s hat fluttered slowly to the ground.

XV-mon didn’t even pause as he changed trajectory to fly parallel to the ground. He reached out and the Kaiser, with apparent practiced ease, jumped into his hold. The Kaiser scrambled easily onto XV-mon’s back and the digimon began to climb again.

“ _Gold Rush!_ ”

XV-mon avoided most of the drills Digmon aimed at him, but one struck him in the side, spinning him about suddenly, and another clipped his wing. As XV-mon struggled to right and steady himself, Holsmon dove for him again. “ _Tempest Wing!_ ” XV-mon took the attack straight on and began to plummet.

He caught himself a few feet above the ground, straightened, and gave a full body shiver like he was shaking off the attacks. He looked mostly unfazed by the hits; scratched up, the thick hide around his stomach roughened, but he was still able to fight. The Kaiser remained perched on his back, looking like he’d barely been tossed about. XV-mon glanced between them all, evaluating them. His eyes focused on Nefertimon and Pegasmon, still hovering near each other. “ _X-Laser!_ ”

Nefertimon dodged beneath the attack; Hikari saw Pegasmon manage to do so as well in the opposite direction. Hikari looked back at XV-mon and her breath caught when she saw him already right in front of them. XV-mon barreled into Nefertimon; the force sent them tumbling and Hikari clamped her fingers around the edges of Nefertimon’s breastplate to remain seated. XV-mon’s hands locked on Nefertimon’s wings, preventing them from regaining control of their flight or from breaking contact.

The weight was dragging them down, but it was slow and controlled and there was no panic she could see on XV-mon that would give the impression that this wasn’t exactly what he had planned. “So,” the Kaiser said over XV-mon’s shoulder, “Little Yagami’s taken over her brother’s position as team leader. Yagami was first then passed the title down to his family member. That would make you… a princess, right?” His voice was low and mocking, eyes pale gold and just as cold.

Holsmon attacking saved her from finding the air and courage needed to reply. " _Tempest Wing!_ ” Once again Holsmon slammed into XV-mon. XV-mon released Nefertimon in surprise.

Nefertimon’s wings snapped back to their full wingspan and her flight stabilized. Pegasmon flew up to her side. “Are you alright?” Pegasmon asked.

Hikari looked over; Pegasmon and Takeru both stared at her with eyes big and blue and worried. Nefertimon said, “We’re fine.” Hikari nodded agreement, though her heart was still pounding painfully against her ribs.

She looked back at the fight. Holsmon was circling XV-mon, attacking quick and fast. Digmon fired drills from the ground whenever Holsmon backed up enough to not get hit as well. She looked back at Pegasmon and Takeru. “Stay opposite me,” she ordered. At her nudge, Nefertimon flew at XV-mon.

“ _Curse of Queen!_ ” The attack caught XV-mon’s attention and he turned to her, dodging beneath the attack.

Holsmon attacked again. XV-mon’s wings folded and he dropped several feet to evade. Pegasmon, who had flown to flank him by her orders, immediately charged at his blind spot. " _Silver Blaze_!”

She saw the Kaiser’s head snap around to the attack. XV-mon, whose wings were still catching the air after his drop, couldn’t move out of the way quick enough. He instead spun to take the attack full on the chest, protecting the Kaiser. XV-mon was blasted back from the attack, wings crumpling. Before he could right himself, Digmon’s “ _Gold Rush!_ ” hit.

XV-mon fell, only managing to control his descent enough so that the Kaiser could jump off and roll away safely. As XV-mon struggled back to his feet, head hanging, the Kaiser stepped in front of him, as if to protect him from further attack. He looked up at them and even from the air, Hikari could see the ugly twist of his mouth, the absolute fury in his eyes. The Kaiser said something over his shoulder to XV-mon, too soft to make out. XV-mon nodded, finally rising to his full height.

They were moving within seconds, the Kaiser once again jumping easily onto XV-mon’s back. They charged forward and didn’t slow in the slightest before ramming into Holsmon full speed. XV-mon didn’t grab Holsmon, so Holsmon tumbled down. Hikari shouted when Holsmon hit the ground before he could right himself, Miyako tossed off from the force of the impact and rolling across the sand.

With attention on the downed Holsmon, XV-mon turned and fired another “ _X-Laser!_ ” down at Digmon. Digmon managed to snap to attention in time to avoid the main force of the damage, but he was still knocked down and looked stunned.

“Takeru!” Hikari shouted to grab his attention and without another word her and Nefertimon dove for XV-mon. Pegasmon and Takeru followed immediately. “ _Sanctuary Bind!_ ”

XV-mon shot up over the attack. The Kaiser turned to look at her; all the cocky arrogance was gone from his face, though she couldn’t see any fear or worry on him. His eyes were furious, molten gold beneath the black mask. “Next time, Princess,” he said.

XV-mon slashed with one hand at Nefertimon, which they barely avoided, as well as lashing out with his tail at Pegasmon. His tail slammed into one one wing, causing Pegasmon to drop a few feet. By the time Nefertimon had settled again and Hikari looked for XV-mon, he and the Kaiser were gone.

After taking another long look around, she nudged Nefertimon into a quick dive to where Holsmon and Miyako were laying. “Miyako! Holsmon!” she shouted. As soon as Nefertimon landed, Hikari hopped off her back to kneel down next to Miyako. “Are you okay?”

Miyako was already sitting up, smoothing her fingers over Holsmon’s feathers. Holsmon seemed in good shape; his feathers were ruffled but he was clear-eyed and was laying down simply so keep his outstretched wing in Miyako’s lap. “We’re fine,” Miyako assured, “He didn’t hit us at a good angle to do much damage. It just knocked the wind out of Holsmon.”

“This is because I’m the biggest flier, isn’t it? That’s why I always get knocked around,” Holsmon said.

“Iori?” Hikair called, looking over at where Iori and Digmon had been blown back.

Iori, who was standing and checking over Digmon, waved at her. Both human and digimon began walking towards her. As they did, Pegasmon landed next to her and Takeru joined her on the ground. She turned to him and winced; the left side of his face was red, already swelling, and would probably begin bruising very quickly. “Ooooh. Are you okay?” she asked.

Takeru shrugged, putting his hands in his pockets. “For now I’m good,” he said. Then his brows furrowed and he asked, “Can we, leave that Tower for tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” she agreed, “Let’s go home and recover.”

Miyako’s hand caught her wrist, causing Hikari to look down at her. “Are you okay too? He didn’t hurt you or Nefertimon during that grapple, right?”

Hikari smiled and held her hand. “I’m fine,” she promised and Nefertimon agreed.

As the group began pulling itself together again, Holsmon standing and shaking himself off, Hikari hooked a finger around the band of her goggles. Princess, the Kaiser had called her, and the meaning wasn’t lost on her. A princess, someone who inherited power because of her blood, not because she had any skill for it.

She bit her lip hard, pain starbursting under the pressure, as she thought about the insinuation that she was team leader only because Taichi was her older brother. The hand gripping her goggles began to shake from the pressure of tense muscles. _You’re wrong_ , she thought, but couldn’t put any force into it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is much more representative of what the chapter length is going to be than that first one. Which, I don't know what happened there.


	3. Dedication

Hikari finally managed to unbury the cold compress from where Taichi had last thrown it, keeping half an ear listening to her team in the living room. There was an ache deep in her muscles from the stress of clinging to Nefertimon during the fight, one that wouldn’t let her forget the terror of it all. Hikari paused, let her head drop forward. And for a few precious seconds, just breathed.

_Princess_.

She winced, tried to shake the thought from her mind. The attempt fared no better than the last one. The Kaiser’s voice, dripping arrogance and poison, continued to mock her.

“Hikari?” Plotmon asked, looking up at her from her feet.

Hikari breathed deep and held it. Once her head rang mostly empty, she gave Tailmon her best smile. “I’m alright,” she assured. Then she turned and marched back to her team, even though she wanted to cower in a corner until the Kaiser’s words lost some of their bite. Until she could remind herself that there had been more reasons to her being chosen as team leader than just her relations.

But she couldn’t hide and lead at the same time. So she gulped down every nervous shiver in her chest as she walked and hoped none escaped into her expression. It was what Taichi would do, she reminded herself.

“So you weren’t able to examine a tower?” Koushiro asked as she walked back into the living room. He was sitting on the couch, tea cup balanced on one knee as he spoke, computer bag at his feet.

Miyako shook her head. “No, after that fight, we just wanted to come home.”

“I see.”

Hikari slipped by the two so she could sit next to Takeru. She gently pressed the compress to his cheek, which was already beginning to purple impressively. He winced under the attention but obediently held it in place once she let go. Assured Takeru was taken care of, she turned to Koushiro. “I’m sorry you came all this way for nothing,” she said, “Since we don’t have any new information to give you.”

Plotmon studied her for a second before curling up and sitting on her feet, instead of jumping into her lap. Hikari smiled a little at the reassuring weight and warmth over her feet.

“No, it’s fine.” Koushiro took a long gulp of his tea then smiled reassuringly at them all. “Simply making sure you’re all alright is good enough.”

“Are you going to be okay?” Iori asked Takeru, eying the swelling visible around the compress. Tokomon made a whining sound from Takeru’s lap, watching Takeru as well.

Takeru grinned as well as he could beneath the injury. He gently ran a hand over Tokomon’s back. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry. It’s really just a bruise.”

“It’s a pretty big one though. People are going to ask about it,” Miyako said.

“I’ll just tell them I caught a soccer ball with my face or something. It’ll be fine, I promise.”

“Yes, now convince Yamato-san of that,” Koushiro said, mostly into his tea. Takeru blanched all the same and began to look a little guilty. “Well, this XV-mon certainly knows how to handle himself.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” Miyako muttered. Poromon grumbled in her arms, puffing up, feathers ruffling angrily. “He tossed us around like rag dolls. Which I’m getting very annoyed with!”

“Four on one and he still-” Hikari said.

“No,” Iori interrupted. He wasn’t looking at them, focused elsewhere, expression thoughtful. After a moment, he continued in a serious voice, “It’s true that he could keep up with four of us. Yet at the same time, we hit him hard. In the end, he had to retreat.” Another pause for thought, then Iori added, “It’s not that he’s a lot stronger than us. He just has experience. He knows how to manage a group of enemies and how to take a few hits. But he folds eventually. We just need to outlast him.”

“So a bit more experience learning his tactics and you shouldn’t have any trouble,” Koushiro said, “That’s great thinking.”

Iori smiled at the praise.

“I was also thinking,” Takeru said slowly, after a long break of conversation. “I suppose I noticed it last time but I never really thought it through. XV-mon doesn’t have a Ring.”

“So, he’s working for the Kaiser of his own free will,” Plotmon said.

“It’s not actually that surprising,” Koushiro said, “There are evil digimon who would probably find the power of working with the Kaiser appealing. It’s unfortunate but we saw it before with Devimon and Vamdemon.”

Hikari felt Takeru tense at the mention of Devimon. Only for a minute, then he relaxed and sank down into the couch. Hikari looked over at him, raised one eyebrow in question; Takeru just focused his full attention to stroking his palm across Tokomon’s back.

“But I’ve heard of V-mons before,” Poromon said, perking up in Miyako’s lap, “They’re supposed to be really noble digimon. They have a strong sense of justice.”

“That doesn’t sound anything like a digimon that would work with the Kaiser,” Hikari said.

“I’ve heard the same things about V-mons,” Upamon said, “One would never work with the Kaiser. Not without a Ring.”

Koushiro made a thoughtful sound, causing Hikari to look over at him. Koushiro stared down at his cup for a minute, brow furrowed, expression almost sad. Then he said slowly, sounding almost reluctant, “From what you’ve described of their battle tactics, have you considered that maybe XV-mon isn’t just working with the Kaiser? That he might be the Kaiser’s partner?”

“Wouldn’t that make the Kaiser a Chosen?” Hikari asked.

“What? No!” Miyako said, immediate and furious. “No way. No way would the Digital World choose that, that. No.”

“It’s probably true,” Takeru said, ignoring the way Miyako immediately spun to glare at him. “How else would the Kaiser have managed to get into the Digital World?”

“But why would the Digital World choose someone like the Kaiser?” Tokomon asked.

“Maybe he was different once,” Hikari said quietly. Plotmon looked up at her, eyes big and questioning. “Maybe he was someone who would be partnered with a V-mon. Noble, good-hearted.”

There was a long moment of silence while everyone seemed to absorb that. Finally, Takeru said, voice low and thoughtful, “...That doesn’t sound anything like the Kaiser.”

“No, it doesn’t.” Hikari agreed. Then, taking a deep breath, she added, “And it doesn’t matter. He needs to be stopped.”

“Agreed,” Iori said, “Even if he is Chosen, it doesn’t give him the right to enslave a world.”

Koushiro, smiling quietly to himself, stood and placed his tea cup on the table. “Well, there’ s nothing I can do here. You all seem to managing yourselves well. Once you have more information on those Towers, I’ll be glad to help.” He picked up his computer bag and grinned at them. “Hikari-kun, can you please tell Taichi-san I’m sorry I missed him? And Takeru-kun, I hope the bruise heals well.”

“Goodbye, Koushiro-san,” Hikari said.

Iori stood as well. “I should probably be getting home as well, if there’s nothing we need to go over?”

“No, we’re good.”

Iori bowed a little, scooping Upamon into his arms. “Goodbye then.”

“Feel better, Takeru!” Upamon said.

“We’ll arrange another trip later, yeah?” Miyako asked. Hikari nodded agreement, so Miyako grinned and waved. “I’ll see you tomorrow in class then.”

“Bye bye,” Hikari said, then turned to look at Takeru, “You going too?”

“Probably should,” he said. He didn’t stand up though, instead sat and stroked his hand along Tokomon’s back. The other held the compress to his cheek.

Hikari watched him sit there for several seconds. “Are you okay?”

Takeru looked up at her and tried to grin sunnily despite half his face turning purple. “Yes, of course! I keep saying it's just a bruise.”

“I wasn’t talking about the bruise.”

“I know.” Takeru stood up, held out the compress for her to reclaim. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Take care of yourself,” she said as she took the compress.

“Promise,” Takeru said as he left.

Hikari looked around the now empty apartment for a second before collapsing back against the couch. Plotmon looked up at her, eyes big and concerned, and jumped up into her lap. Her weight was warm, even through Hikari’s shorts, and Hikari curled around the welcome pressure.

“He’s wrong, you know,” Plotmon said, quiet and gentle. Hikari leaned further down until she could press her forehead against Plotmon’s side. The short furs tickled just under her nose, making her smile despite the thoughts running like a stampede through her head. “The Kaiser, I mean. I think you’re a great leader.”

Some of the tension caught around her lungs like a vise lifted with the assurance. “Thanks, Plotmon,” Hikari said.

Plotmon squirmed in her hold until she could press a wet nose against Hikari’s cheek, making Hikari giggle at the sensation. “I’ll say it whenever you need me to,” Plotmon promised.

Hikari’s eyes stung suddenly, a good pain to match the gratitude that clogged her throat. “Thank you,” she said again, words heavy with sincerity.

*****

Takeru’s bruise was, as with all bruises, much worse the next day. Hikari paused in the hallway between classes and winced when she saw him at school, pressing one hand to her mouth in sympathetic pain; maybe, buried deep where she’d never admit to it, was something that was almost amusement. Because, truly, he looked ridiculous, one side of his face swollen and almost black, going green at the edges, messing oddly with the powder blue of his uniform. She let herself smile a little behind her hand, safe in the knowledge the bruise looked much worse than it was.

Takeru sighed theatrically when he saw her expression. “Come on, let’s hear it,” he said, holding both arms out from his sides like he was inviting the taunting.

“I’m sorry,” Hikari said, aiming for sympathetic and landing more towards laughter, “But you look so silly.”

Takeru nodded and said, on a long sigh, “Yeah.”

“What did your mother think?”

“Oh, she was not impressed,” Takeru said, grimacing and shaking his head. Hikari let a giggle escape.

Hikari caught sight of a flash of violet hair out of the corner of her eye and turned to see Miyako approaching. Miyako stilled when she caught sight of Takeru; her eyes went wide for a second before she broke, not bothering to be any where near as subtle with her amusement as Hikari had been.

“That’s it,” Takeru said, pointing at the chortling Miyako then over at Hikari. “Iori-kun’s my new favorite. I know he won’t laugh at me. He’s a nice person like that.”

“I’m sorry,” Hikari said again, this time with a wide grin beginning to split her face.

“You say that and yet you’re still laughing,” Takeru accused except he was beginning to smile as well.

A little giggle managed to break through Hikari’s control. Miyako swung an arm around her shoulders, pressing against her side as she caught her breath. She wasn’t laughing anymore, but her cheeks were flushed red and she was still beaming. It wasn’t helping Hikari control her own amusement.

“If you think his face is bad, you should see my back,” Miyako said. Despite Miyako’s light tone, her still joyful expression, Hikari’s amusement immediately vanished. She looked over at Miyako, wide-eyed, causing Miyako to hurriedly add, “I’m joking. That fall was just a little rougher than I thought yesterday. It doesn’t hurt at all. I didn’t even notice until I got dressed this morning.”

“You’re sure?” Hikari asked, voice pinched with worry.

Miyako winked, “Promise.” Then she paused and looked Hikari over with a frown. “Are you okay though?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I didn’t get hit that bad, remember?”

“No, I meant,” Miyako peered at her closer, then drew back to wave a hand around her own face. “It’s just that you look well, exhausted, frankly.”

Takeru added, before she could protest, “I wasn’t going to say anything but, yeah, it's kind of obvious.”

Hikari sighed under the attention and admitted, “I didn’t sleep well, is all.”

Her sleep had been plagued horribly with dreams, nightmares of hot sand and the sound of leathery wings. Watching Miyako roll limpy across the ground; Digmon being blasted back. XV-mon’s claws around Nefertimon’s wings. Strabimon dying. Then, as the night went on, the dreams got less specific; roaring dragons chasing her endlessly across sand dunes while a crown tumbled along in her shadow.

The dreams had been scattered patchworks of fear and horror and adrenaline, preventing her from sleeping fully or deeply. Though she’d woken up a few times, the dreams were always waiting for her when she managed to fall back asleep.

“Yo,” another voice, so familiar, called from behind her before she could elaborate.

Cold spilled down the line of her spine, fear blooming sharp and nauseous through her stomach. Miyako went tense as steel against her. _No, please, not here_ , Hikari thought.

Hikari looked wildly over her shoulder, not sure how she was going to handle the Kaiser being here, at their school, when they didn’t even have their digimon. What she found was Daisuke, hand raised in greeting, expression faltering under Hikari’s wide-eyed scrutiny. All the tension eased from her in realization. Because, of course, it was just Daisuke. “Oh, Daisuke-kun,” she said, relief coated thick as syrup along her voice.

Daisuke smiled and the last of the panicked chill left Hikari’s body. Daisuke always smiled like he’d trapped the sun behind his teeth and it was impossible to remain afraid when faced with it. “Didn’t mean to startle any of you,” Daisuke said.

“It’s alright,” Hikari assured.

Daisuke’s eyes flickered over her face for a second, expression unreadable past his smile. Hikari wondered if her exhaustion was as easy to see as Takeru had suggested. “If you’re sure,” Daisuke said. Then his eyes skipped past her and landed on Takeru standing behind her. His expression immediately became a mix of concern and something that was probably him impressed. “Damn Takaishi. What did you do? Forget how to catch a basketball or something?”

“Actually it was computer club,” Takeru said, completely straight-faced.

Hikari clapped a hand over her mouth to force back a laugh, Miyako snorting next to her. Daisuke’s eyebrows rose slowly as he considered that answer. “Wow,” he said slowly, like he was still considering what kind of circumstances might have gotten Takeru that kind of bruise in a computer club.

Takeru was looking very pleased with himself. Hikari giggled.

“Right,” Daisuke said, “You’re all very strange.”

“We know,” Miyako said brightly.

Daisuke shook his head, still smiling like he’d swallowed a star. “Right, well, I have to run to class. Like a normal person. I will see you all later.” Daisuke raised his hand in another jaunty wave and started walking away. After a few steps, he paused, turned around, and headed back to face them. “Wait, wait, I stopped to talk to you for a reason,” he said and pointed at Hikari, “Pick-up game. Kind of, anyway. Tomorrow. Taichi’s idea. I know you sometimes like to get in on those. You coming?”

“First time I’ve heard of it,” Hikari said. A bubble of excitement immediately built in her chest as she considered it. She only rarely participated in the ever-ongoing soccer rivalry between Taichi and Daisuke; playing soccer against Daisuke was excruciating, something that required her full attention and a lot more skill at the game than she usually possessed. Still, on those few occasions she joined them, the struggle had been more than worth it. “I would love- no, wait, I may not be able to make it,” she said, remembering her responsibilities. The freeing of the Digital World wasn’t something that should wait while she played ball with Taichi.

“She’ll be there,” Takeru said, eyes focused on her with a knowing look, like he understood exactly what she was thinking.

“We’ll all be there,” Miyako said, “Promise.”

“Great!” Daisuke said. He was positively beaming as he waved goodbye and began to walk backwards. “Taichi has the details. You can ask him all about it See you later!” He shouted as he vanished into the crowd.

Miyako huffed, part amusement, part fondness. “Well, guess he’s still a loud-mouth.”

Hikari looked between the two. “Are you sure? I mean, we have work to do.”

“It’ll be fine,” Takeru assured, “It’s only going to be for a few hours.”

“Besides, we could always use a break,” Miyako said, “Can’t be focused on the Digital World 100% of the time. We’ll go nuts.”

Hikari hesitated still, thinking about the quickly cleared land where a destroyed factory had been, how quickly the Kaiser’s Empire could move, could expand. Watching her think it over, Takeru said, “Hey, once we know what time the game’s starting, we can arrange a quick trip for just before it. We’ll have enough time to clear out a little of the Kaiser’s territory and still go to the game.”

“Come on,” Miyako needled, “We know you want to go. We saw your face.”

“Fine,” Hikari said, “We’ll all go to the game. Honestly, I didn’t know you two liked soccer so much.”

“Oh yeah, big fan,” Takeru said in a deadpan.

Hikari snorted disbelief. “Come on. If that’s settled, we all need to go to class.”

“Yes, captain,” Miyako said, stepping back and saluting sharply, expression as solemn as she could make around the mirth in her eyes. After a second she broke and ran off to class laughing.

Hikari grinned brightly, unable to help the anticipation growing in her gut, and followed after her.

*****

There was sand caught in her goggles. Hikari ran her finger around the grooves, trying to dig out the still hot sand. It was wedging under her nails as she did so, causing a small ache to build in her fingers. She huffed down at the worn goggles in her hands.

“That went very well,” Miyako said as she righted her clothes from the rough landing back into the human world, “I am suspicious.”

Hikari shook her head as Takeru laughed. She gave up trying to dig out the sand and yanked the goggles back over her head. “Let’s just take advantage of it while we can.”

“We got a lot done today. Cleared a few factories, took down that tower. I’d say we did good.” Takeru added brightly. His bruise still looked terrible, still showed no signs of fading, but was now balanced oddly with the starts of a sunburn. He was going to be a mess of color very soon.

“We should be proud of that,” Poromon said.

Miyako sighed but nodded, “Yeah, that’s true. Guess I got myself all keyed up for another fight with the Kaiser.”

“Don’t worry,” Tokomon said, “He won’t get away with hurting you and Poromon forever!”

“Thanks, Tokomon.”

Iori finished straightening himself as well. He looked up at her, slight smile crinkling his eyes. “Looks like we were right about the towers.”

She nodded, some of her weariness falling away beneath the weight of her relief. Without the towers to block off digivolution, they would be able to actually organize defenses with other digimon; maybe have the other partner digimon guard any freed territories. Hikari doubted the Kaiser would be able to reclaim any lost territory quite as easily without the towers in place. Which would, in turn, remove some of stress to take down his infrastructure as fast as possible. _Room to breathe_ , Hikari thought, and felt almost faint with it. “Right, we should go talk to Koushiro-san. I promised we’d inform him if we made any discoveries about what’s preventing digivolution. He’ll want to know about the towers,” she said.

She was not expecting Miyako to immediately grab for the band of her goggles, yanking her to a standstill roughly. “Wow, hold it!” Miyako ordered.

Hikari scrambled at Miyako’s grip, eventually managing to get her to let go. Hikari turned to face Miyako, eyes wide, and found Miyako scowling at her with her arms crossed. “What did I do?”

“We had plans,” Miyako said.

“The soccer game,” Takeru said right after Miyako, “We promised we’d go.”

“Oh,” Hikari said. Then, she fully remembered; excitement immediately bubbled up in her chest, shredding the last of her tiredness. “Oh, right! I completely forgot.”

“We’re still going right?” Takeru asked, watching her with eyebrows raised. “Or are we going to just keep working?”

Plotmon rubbed up against her legs, stealing her attention. “We can always talk to Koushiro-san tomorrow,” Plotmon said, watching her with gentle eyes.

Hikari nodded. “Yeah, we’ve done enough for the day. We can take a break. We did promise after all.”

Miyako and Takeru both nodded, Miyako more firmly, almost stern. Iori looked over at her, eyes hesitant. “I don’t know much about soccer.”

“Don’t worry, I wasn’t planning on playing either,” Miyako assured. She grinned widely and tossed an arm over Iori’s shoulders. “We can keep each other company while we watch. It’s really just to relax. And with Daisuke-kun there, we can’t talk about the Digital World anyways.”

“Can we come too?” Upamon asked, looking up at them from Iori’s arms.

“Oh, yes, of course,” Hikari said immediately, “As long as you’re careful around Daisuke-kun.”

“We can be careful!” Tokomon said. He began to wiggle excitedly in Takeru’s arms, making the boy laugh.

“Let’s go!” Miyako urged and began to tug Iori along. Iori huffed but allowed himself to be moved bodily without complaint.

Hikari laughed as she followed, heard Plotmon giggle to herself. Takeru soon matched her footsteps, looking at her from the corner of his eyes. “You almost had me worried there,” he said, voice quiet so Miyako and Iori wouldn’t hear him.

“Worried about what?”

“That you’d decide not to go,” Takeru said and shrugged at her questioning look. “You’ve been taking this leadership so seriously, I’ve been worried about you.”

“You don’t have to be. I’m fine.”

“You keep too many things to yourself. You always do.” Takeru turned to smile at her fully. “You don’t have to do it all yourself, you know. You can talk to us. I worry you forget that sometimes.”

She let out a little sigh and smiled back at him. “I know. Thank you.”

Takeru turned to face forward again and looped his arms behind his head. “It’s nothing. Anything I can do to help.”

The walk to the field Taichi had claimed for their game was long enough for the last of the adrenaline from their battles in the Digital World to wear off. When they arrived, Taichi and Daisuke were already in the middle of a face off. Daisuke had control of the ball currently, was pushing it about with one foot as he considered Taichi. After a second, a confident smile slid across Daisuke’s face and he dashed forward. Taichi surged to meet him and Hikari watched as Daisuke kicked the ball up, clean over Taichi’s shoulder, and twisted around him. Within the next second, Daisuke had reclaimed the ball; barely a heartbeat later, he was halfway down the field.

“Wow,” Miyako muttered as Daisuke easily soared across the his goal line. Daisuke turned back to Taichi, arms raised victoriously, smile huge enough to hurt. Miyako continued, “He’s really fast.”

Hikari could see Takeru’s expression fall out of the corner of her eye. “Did you know he was that fast?” he asked her. Hikari nodded, heard him sigh. “Oh, I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”

Hikari laughed at him, couldn’t help it, because she knew from experience the game was going to be brutal.

Daisuke stopped celebrating and his eyes flickered up to them. Surprise crossed his face for an instant before he waved at them and beckoned them forward. Taichi turned to face them and a relieved smile crossed his face. “There you are! We were getting worried.”

“Sorry, we were just finishing up some work,” Hikari said as they approached. She saw Taichi’s eyes flicker over all their digimon, all of whom but Plotmon were acting as stuffed toys, and he raised his eyebrows. Hikari shrugged at him in response.

Taichi smiled, a touch anxiously, and looked over at Daisuke. Hikari noticed suddenly the sweat at his brow, slicking his hair down somewhat. She wondered briefly how long the two had been playing before they’d arrived. “Mind if we take a break real quick?”

Daisuke shrugged at him, most of his attention on the team. “What have you all been up to?” he asked, eying the sunburn they were all developing.

“Oh, you know, computer club stuff,” Takeru said, smiling at Daisuke winningly.

Daisuke’s eyebrows rose for a second. Then he stepped towards Takeru, like he was going to share a secret, and gave an awkward little grin. He pointed at Iori and said, “He’s in a middle school uniform.”

Hikari sighed, watched as Takeru’s expression froze for a second. Takeru nodded once in agreement, short and jerky, and simply said, “He is.”

The look Iori gave Takeru was incredibly unimpressed.

Daisuke watched Takeru for another second then started laughing, his smile pure amusement. “You’re so weird, Takaishi,” he said, stepping back out of Takeru’s space, shrugging widely.

“So,” Hikari said, overly loud. Daisuke looked over at her, eyes crinkled practically shut with his amusement. “Mind if we join the game?”

“You can take my place,” Taichi said, “I need a break. Playing him’s hell.”

“Aw, what’s the matter, Taichi?” Daisuke, turning to face Taichi. His smile turned half-smug, half- friendly mocking. “Getting slow in your old age?”

“Piss off. We didn’t all turn genius in middle school.”

“Excuses, excuses,” Daisuke said. He turned to look at Iori and Miyako, eyebrows raised.

Miyako immediately started shaking her head. “Oh, no, no, no, no. We’re good just watching.”

“Ah, I’m to be outnumbered then,” Daisuke said. Despite his words, his smile was overly bright and confident.

“Good,” Hikari said, only half joking. Daisuke laughed with his whole body, head thrown back and shoulders shaking. Hikari huffed at him, shared a commiserating look with Takeru, and began stretching.

“I feel like I’ve been tricked into something,” Takeru said, not really towards anyone, and reluctantly began to copy her.

Taichi snickered at his words as he sat down on the grass. Plotmon, still pretending to just be an ordinary dog, marched over to sit next to him. Taichi looked down at her for a second, eyebrows raised, half-amused. Then he huffed and gently scratched behind one ear.

“Cute dog,” Daisuke said. Hikari looked over at him, confused by the odd, infinite amusement in his voice. He was looking down at Plotmon, smile crooking up the corners of his mouth.

“She hangs around our apartment building sometimes,” Hikari said slowly, thinking through her words. It was the lie they’d come up with weeks ago to explain away Plotmon to anyone who didn’t know, but Daisuke’s eyes were sharper than she was used to and she couldn’t shake the feeling he saw right through her. “Follows everyone around all the time. Don’t know who she belongs to.”

Daisuke hummed and kneeled down, stretching out one hand. Plotmon immediately butted into his hand, well familiar with pretending to be an ordinary dog. Daisuke smiled a bit wider as he pet her, then stood back up and looked over at her. The sharp knowing in his eyes eased off beneath the weight of his smile. “You two about ready?” he asked.

Tension escaped her in a rush as soon as Daisuke’s attention was off Plotmon, though she couldn’t have said exactly was so unsettling. “Almost,” she muttered, watched him sigh exaggeratedly.

“You used to be an idiot,” Miyako said suddenly. Daisuke’s expression crumbled briefly into confusion and disbelief as he turned to look at her. Miyako stared back, eyebrows scrunched together. “I remember, in shougaku, you were an idiot. What’s this I’m hearing about you being a genius?”

“I’m not a genius,” Daisuke said immediately. He briefly shot Taichi an annoyed look, who just shrugged back at him in response, expression painted disagreement. Daisuke looked back at Miyako and continued, “I’ve met geniuses. I am not one. I’m just not as much of an airhead as I used to be. Perks of having dated an actual genius, I suppose.”

Daisuke shrugged as he talked, attempting to look nonchalant. However, on a person as enthusiastic as Daisuke, it was impossible not to notice when all the energy drained out of him. His smile seemed pasted on. Hikari paused in the middle of her last stretches to watch him; that was, she was sure, the same look he’d had a few days go when his love life had last been brought up. Last time had been so quick, blink of the eye, that she hadn’t been sure she hadn’t imagined it; but now, there was no missing the quiet misery spilling across his whole body.

“Oh, get your heart broken?” Miyako asked, voice gentle and sympathetic.

Hikari was at just the right angle to see the way Taichi’s eyes went very, very wide. Taichi looked sharply over at Daisuke, expression full of concern.

“Something like that,” Daisuke said, voice full of all the emotion on his face.

Taichi grimaced before he straightened his expression into something attempting to be casual. “Liar. You should be going to one of those fancy super smart high schools and you know it.”

Daisuke’s expression changed immediately, his normal cheer flooding back in like nothing had happened. “Yeah, but that takes work. I’d prefer to just coast by.”

Taichi sighed, like he was facing down an argument he’d already had many times before. Hikari looked between the two, knowing Taichi was trying to divert conversation, just as he had the last time. The sinking feeling of missing something hugely important flooded through her. Daisuke had always been Taichi’s friend first; her and Daisuke had never actually been that close despite his previous crush on her. Despite that, Daisuke was such an open person she’d been sure she knew most of the major events of his life. Now she wondered how much she’d missed over the years simply because she’d let herself be blinded by Daisuke’s optimism.

Daisuke whistled suddenly, drawing everyone’s attention. Daisuke met Taichi’s eyes briefly then nodded his head towards something behind them. “Your threesome’s here,” he said, voice utterly bland.

Hikari choked a little at the words, turning to look. Yamato and Sora were walking towards them and Sora waved when she noticed Hikari looking. Hikari waved back and turned to look at Taichi. Taichi was giving Daisuke a dirty look but there wasn’t any surprise in his face. Daisuke smiled widely back at him. Shaking his head, Taichi stood up and walked over to meet them.

Hikari looked over at Daisuke, eyes wide. “Why?”

“It’s an old joke,” Daisuke said back, still smirking widely. “Because they’re always together, you know?”

“That’s my brother,” Takeru said, blanching.

Daisuke looked over at him for a second then started laughing. “Oh, I’m never letting that joke go now.”

Taichi trekked back to them, Sora and Yamato following behind. Yamato stepped up next to Takeru immediately, peering at the bruise on his face and wincing.

“Sunburn hurts more, honestly,” Takeru told his brother, shrugged like it was nothing. Yamato huffed at him but there was no denying the relief on his face.

“You guys remember Daisuke?” Taichi asked, waving at said boy. Daisuke waved jauntily, still smiling with the weight of his joke.

“We’ve met briefly,” Yamato agreed, nodding at Daisuke.

“It’s good to see you again,” Sora said.

“Same here,” Daisuke said, “We were about to start another game, if you want in.”

“Always,” Sora said immediately, while Yamato shook his head.

Taichi slung an arm over Yamato’s shoulders, ignoring the annoyed look it earned him. “You can keep me company then. I’m taking a break,” Taichi said, and began tugging him over to where Iori and Miyako were sitting.

Hikari smiled over at Sora. “This means four players. We’ll have even teams,” she said.

Sora hummed agreement, tugging off her light jacket and throwing it over to Taichi. Taichi spluttered as it caught him full in the face, swiping wildly at the jacket and scowling at her. Sora grinned brightly over at him before turning back to the three of them. “Who’s on what team?”

“We could do 3-on-1,” Daisuke said.

“Do it!” Taichi immediately said, “Kick his ass. He needs it.”

“That wouldn’t be very fair,” Hikari protested.

“But it would be fun,” Daisuke said. He was grinning hugely at them, so bright it was hard to not to get swept up in that kind of enthusiasm. “And it would just be the one game.”

“Do it!” Taichi said again. When Sora turned enough to shoot him an annoyed look, Taichi shrugged. “He can handle it.”

“Come on!” Daisuke urged. He was beginning to bounce eagerly on the balls of his feet and Hikari couldn’t help but laugh.

“Well, if it's just one game,” Hikari said, looking over at Takeru and Sora. Takeru shrugged and, after a second, Sora sighed and nodded.

“Why not?” Sora said, “It’ll be interesting.”

“Great!” Smiling widely, Daisuke ran over to where Taichi had left the ball. He came back with it, stood opposite them as he briefly moved the ball about with his foot. After a second, he looked up at them, eyes weighing and considering.

That odd sharpness filled his eyes again and they seemed to almost burn with it,a bright molten gold. His lips twitched upwards, twisted into a smirk so completely unlike Daisuke, and Hikari felt cold drop down her spine. She was aware of Takeru going very still next to her.

Then Daisuke moved, crossed the field with a speed Hikari never anticipated, no matter how many times they played together. Hikari shook off her lingering unease, tried to focus on the game. _It’s nothing_ , she thought, _I just really need this break. I’ve been focusing on the Digital World too much_.

That Daisuke had, for just a second, looked terrifyingly like the Kaiser, that had to simply be Hikari projecting.

*****

Daisuke lost the first game, of course. Eventually. He made them work for it.

The following games, with more evenly divided teams, slanted much more in his favor until Taichi rejoined the playing. By the time they called the whole thing to a close, game wins were divided pretty evenly among teams.

“This was great,” Sora said, still breathing a little heavily. She was as covered in sweat as Taichi felt he was and she was grinning widely. “Thanks for inviting us!”

“Like I’d forget about you,” Taichi said. Sora laughed brightly.

“I need to get going,” Iori said hesitantly. He had stayed sitting the entire time, accompanied by Miyako, even as other players switched out around him. Neither him or Miyako seemed all that bothered by not playing; there was a brightness to Iori’s eyes Taichi wasn’t used to from the overly-serious boy.

“I think most of us need to,” Miyako added.

“Why don’t you all go? Daisuke and I can clean up,” Taichi said.

Looks of gratitude crossed Iori and Miyako’s faces immediately. Hikari looked over at him questioning. “I can help,” she offered.

“Nah. You’ve had a long day. Go home, take a break.”

Hikari hesitated for another second, looking unsurely over at Daisuke. Taichi didn’t do the same, though he wanted to. No need to draw too much attention to Daisuke when he was still calming down. After that second, Hikari looked back at him and nodded. “I’ll see you later,” she said.

Taichi shared goodbyes with the whole group then turned towards Daisuke. He was walking slowly around the field to cool down, eyes focused elsewhere. Daisuke perked up when others started calling goodbyes to him, waving enthusiastically.

“Hey, hey,” Daisuke shouted at the retreating kids, “My team has a practice match in a few weeks. Wanna come?”

“We’ll see,” Hikari shouted back, smiling widely. Daisuke waved again, the movement wide enough to jar his whole frame.

Taichi walked over to him. “I’ve volunteered us to clean up.”

“Of course you did,” Daisuke said, smiling like he was perfectly at ease. Which was a lie; Daisuke had been off, almost angry, ever since mentioning his love life without thinking. He’d been settling as the games went on, but the difference was noticeable if you were paying attention.

“Are you okay?” Taichi asked. He watched Daisuke closely, because Daisuke had gained the bad habit of trying to pretend he was alright when he really wasn’t; sometimes Taichi really missed Daisuke at 10-years-old, too naive to even think of lying about how he was feeling. “You’ve been all sharp edges since Miyako made that heartbroken comment.”

Daisuke didn’t answer for a bit, then sighed. Some of the fake cheer bled out of him. “Yeah, I’m alright,” he said, though he didn’t sound like it. There was exhaustion in the back of his eyes, an old type of exhaustion that seemed to have settled into his bones. Taichi winced a little to see it, to be reminded again that Daisuke wasn’t always as cheerful as he liked to act. It wasn’t something Taichi necessarily forgot, but there was always the hope that Daisuke was getting better, was moving on.

Though, Taichi supposed, the love of your life disappearing without a trace wasn’t something gotten over quickly. Perhaps not at all.

“I’m sorry,” Daisuke said, still with that deep set exhaustion, “Really, it’s been almost three years, you’d think I’d be used to this already.”

“Don’t apologize. There’s no time limit on grief, Daisuke.”

Daisuke smiled, small and wan and not happy at all. “Yeah, well. ...You know, most of those guys probably wouldn’t have even recognized Ken’s name at this point.”

Taichi sighed, wished there was still room for words of comfort. Three years had long since ate all of his up. “Has there been any sign yet?”

“No.” Daisuke hesitated, Taichi could see it all over him, before admitting in a small voice, “The police have given up. His parents haven’t, of course, but there’s really nothing anyone can do at this point.”

“I’m sorry,” Taichi said, because it was the only thing he could think to say. “I know you loved him.”

The change was immediate; Taichi had only a second’s warning as Daisuke’s shoulders went stiff. Daisuke spun to face him fully, eyes molten with rage, mouth twisted into a snarl. “Shut up!” he shouted. “Stop talking about him like he’s dead!”

Taichi didn’t step back in the face of Daisuke’s rage, despite how intimidating he could be when he wanted. “Daisuke,” he said in as gentle a voice as he could, “It’s been nearly three years.”

“3 years or 30, I am never giving up on Ken,” Daisuke said. There as steel lining every word, fierceness in his eyes daring Taichi to contradict him. His hands were trembling, Taichi noticed, and wasn’t sure if it was from rage or desperation.

Taichi sighed, because he didn’t have words for this. And, because he could never forget how Daisuke had been when Ichijouji had first disappeared (hollow-boned, shaking apart with his fear, ready to fall apart at the first wrong word), he simply said, “I’m sorry.”

It took a few seconds before Daisuke swallowed down his anger, where Taichi found himself simply pinned in place by his eyes, then Daisuke seemed to shake himself. “Me too. I… come on, let’s finish cleaning up.”

Taichi watched him for another second, but couldn’t find the words. He could never find the words. Those first few months, he’d spent so long just trying to keep Daisuke in one piece, biting his tongue on every wrong thought, he’d forgotten how to speak up about the subject at all. Even now, he still kept trying to steer conversations away from any mention of Ichijouji. Finally, Taichi sighed again and bent to help Daisuke.

There were no more words between them.


	4. Fire From the Tongues of Liars

The heat of the foundry burned against every inch of Hikari’s body. No matter where she turned in the building, there was no escaping it. Her throat felt charred; it was a constant struggle to force air into her lungs, the heat felt like it was squeezing them shut. Sweat slicked her hair to her neck and forehead; kept dripping down to burn into her eyes no matter how often she wiped it away.

Almost worse than the heat was the tension, the never ending fear of getting caught. Hikari focused on staying down, staying to the shadows, and staying quiet as she slipped past the many workers and Ringed digimon. Tailmon led the way through the foundry, so much better than the rest of them at being sneaky.

Hikari paused, glancing behind her for the rest of her team. She could see Takeru’s hat, the bright splash of Miyako’s hair, in the distance behind her; each scurried from hiding place to hiding place, following her path as allowed by the roaming guards. Iori was no where she could see and she tried not to worry.

If any of them got caught, she reminded herself, the whole place would go up in arms. Everyone would know.

Through the foundry was the safest way to the tower, despite the tension running so taunt she thought she could snap at the slightest provocation trying to tell her otherwise. The tower for this territory was in the middle of a wide set of factories, thus surrounded on all sides by Ringed digimon. Attacking straight on, even trying to take it out from the air, would end with them surrounded, heavily outnumbered, and facing down digimon they had to be careful not to hurt too much. It was not a situation any of them were eager to take on.

So they had decided to sneak towards it, get as close as they could, then attempt to take down the tower in one blow. The sneakiest route, they had decided, was to move through the foundry then hide behind the larger equipment until they had to dash across the last open stretch to the tower.

Not the best plan Hikari had ever worked with but the situation didn’t give them many options.

Hikari kept ducking through the foundry, sticking to the shadows and away from the equipment scattered throughout. There were guards moving through the foundry in patrols, ordering about the workers, only barely keeping an eye out for intruders. However, the majority of workers weren’t Ringed; they scurried under the eyes of their captors, eyes blown wide with fear. The work they were forced to do kept them too weak to fight back against their guards. Hikari’s blood thrummed with the need to help, to take them far away from here where the Kaiser couldn’t hurt them anymore. Hikari breathed through the ache in her chest, where guilt and pity and uselessness weighed down her ribs. She kept moving.

Tailmon slipped back through the shadows to her side. Her eyes gleamed brightly in the odd lighting of the foundry. “Almost to the door,” she reported, “A few patrols moving about outside, but we can avoid them if we’re careful. I think I can plan a route to the tower.”

“Got it,” Hikari whispered back. She smoothed a hand over Tailmon’s head, watched her eyes close into slits of pleasure. Hikari squinted when she slipped out of the foundry, eyes watering against the light of the noon sun. She hurriedly darted away from the entrance, until she could duck into the long shadow of some of the machinery and wait for her team.

After a few breathless seconds of waiting, heart pounding against her ribs with fear, Iori dashed to her side as well, Armadimon clinging from his shoulders. Iori was dripping with sweat, panting heavily, but his eyes showed no signs of exhaustion. Armadimon grinned at her from Iori’s shoulders, arms still clamped tight around his neck.

At Hikari’s questioning look, Iori shrugged. Armadimon said, “I’m too slow.”

Hikari bit back a laugh, grinning at the two in acknowledgment. After another few seconds, the rest of the team managed to make their way to her. Miyako and Takeru both looked just as sweaty as Hikari felt and their digimon were not that far behind. Iori wasn’t the only one carrying his partner; Miyako had Hawkmon clutched to her chest and Patamon was atop Takeru’s head, crushing Takeru’s hat. Hikari understand the reasoning; Patamon was too slow for the mad dashes they were making and Hawkmon just too obvious when he flew. Hikari asked, “Ready for the next part?”

They nodded back at her.

Hikari looked over at Tailmon, who had found a high perch and was watching the roaming patrols with a careful eye. It took a minute as Tailmon continued to scan the area, then Tailmon looked back at her. She jerked her head, motioning them to follow before jumping from her perch and dashing across to the next hiding spot. Hikari immediately leapt to follow her, trusting Tailmon’s opinion that the patrols wouldn’t see them.

She slid into the next place Tailmon had chosen, breathing hard more from nerves than the quick sprint. She pressed her back to the cool metal of what she thought it might be a crane and glanced over at Tailmon sitting next to her. Tailmon was still focused on the work yard, peering around the edge of the crane’s wide base to track the patrols, plan out their next running path. “How’s it looking?”

“Patrols are much tighter around the Towers,” Tailmon reported.

Hikari glanced over only briefly when Miyako slid into place next to her. Miyako grinned widely; despite how terrible she looked, covered in sweat and dirt, hair tangled, her eyes shined with excitement and adrenaline. Hikari wished she had half of Miyako’s excitement most of the time. The other two were only a few steps behind her. Hikari looked back over at Tailmon. “How close do you think we can get before we have to digivolve?”

“Not much farther. Maybe a few more feet.”

“How far to the tower?”

“More than a few more feet.”

“Right,” Hikari said, “On your mark.”

Tailmon nodded. Her whole body tensed just before she took off and Hikari hurriedly shoved herself to her feet after Tailmon. Hikari was halfway to the next hiding space when a long shadow fell over her. Her anxiety exploded into fear as soon as she registered the shape of it. She stumbled through the last few steps to cover, where she collapsed to her knees. Her breath came in erratic, painful bursts and beneath the sweat, she felt cold. She kept trying to gulp in air through that tightness in her chest; once she’d managed to get her breathing somewhat normal, if not her heartbeat, she looked up at Tailmon.

Tailmon watched her with wide eyes that were all pupil. All her fur stood on end.

“Was that?” Hikari asked, voice shaky.

“XV-mon,” Tailmon confirmed.

Hikari gulped and looked behind her. Miyako and Takeru, who had already started following her, had thrown themselves behind the nearest cover they could find and were looking back at her, as shocked and scared as she felt. Iori was still back at their old cover and was watching the work yard, face a mix of anger and worry.

For a long few seconds, Hikari simply sat there, gulping at air, frozen. It was bad enough facing the Knight on his own, but they were surrounded by digimon who would have no choice but to fight with him. She couldn’t help but shake, wholly aware everyone was looking to her for instruction.

_What would Taichi do_? The thought ran through her like a storm.

She forced herself to take a deep breath, then another; refused to acknowledge the shaking in her hands, the persistent drumbeat of _run away_ in her blood. The others were watching her, taking their cues from her, and she couldn’t be afraid. “Tailmon, help the others get here without being seen,” she ordered, in a voice no where as steady as she’d wanted.

Tailmon’s tail thrashed from side to side briefly, eyes narrowed on her. “Are we going to fight him?”

“I don’t know,” she said, “But the others aren’t safe where they are.”

Tailmon nodded and, with a quick glance around, disappeared to help the others. Hikari forced herself to move; she crept to the edge of cover and peered out at the rest of the yard. It only took her a second to find XV-mon. He perched next to the secondary foundry, across the work yard. He didn’t seem on guard; he was watching the workers and slaves move about with a close eye, but not in a way that said he worried about an imminent attack. His expression was rather a blank one, especially compared to the usual bright humor and glee she saw on him when they fought.

She glanced around again, looking for the Kaiser, because she’d yet to see them apart. It took her a minute to find him; he wasn’t, as she’d expected, anywhere near XV-mon or a spot where he could more easily command the slaves. He was, instead, standing next to the tower, leaning against it with a loose, relaxed posture, typing away on a D-Terminal.

She ducked back into cover as Miyako slid into place next to her. Tailmon immediately vanished off again to fetch Takeru. “What’s he doing here?” Miyako asked. She was panting, eyes too wide behind her glasses, all of her joy gone.

“I don’t know,” Hikari said.

“There’s no way he knows we’re here, right?”

“I don’t know,” Hikari repeated, more forcibly. Well, at least her voice wasn’t shaking anymore.

Takeru arrived; he didn’t say anything, just sat down, looking discouraged. After only another second, Iori joined them and Tailmon immediately jumped up onto her shoulders, curling around her neck. “What do we do?” Iori asked, looking at her with an utterly unruffled expression. His eyes were dark and steady and confident and Hikari wished she had even a splinter of that strength.

Hikari didn’t answer, had no answer, just looked blankly back at him.

“We could run,” Armadimon suggested.

“You think we could outfly him?” Miyako asked.

“We could try,” Takeru said.

“Its either that or we have to fight,” Iori said.

“If we fight, we’ll have to take on all the slaves as well,” Hawkmon said, “Can we do that?”

“No,” Miyako said, “I mean, that’s what the sneaking was for in the first place, right?”

“Hikari,” Tailmon whispered, quiet, soft, right against her ear where no one else could hear.

_Fight or flee, fight or flee._

_What would Taichi do?_

“We,” Hikari said, paused, licked at her dry lips. “We keep going.”

“What?” Takeru asked with blank surprise, eyebrows hiking up slowly.

“If we make it to the tower and destroy it, the Rings stop working and he’ll have this whole place against him,” Hikari said, very quickly, trying to put as much confidence into her voice as she could. Like she wasn’t making the whole thing up as she spoke. “We can do it.”

Iori leaned out a little so he could peer across to the tower. “The Kaiser is right there,” Iori said when he sat back.

“I know,” Hikari agreed, “We’ll… need to change the plan up a bit.”

“A distraction,” Tailmon said.

Hikari latched onto those two words with relief and ran with them. “If we digivolve, we’ll have an advantage over the other slaves. Most of them don’t look like fliers, so if we stay out of their reach, we can focus on XV-mon.” She paused to look over her team; Miyako still watched her with wide eyes, attentive but making no effort to find her nervousness; Takeru’s eyebrows hadn’t come back down, skepticism all over his face (Hikari had the strong suspicion that there were going to be _words_ about this plan when they all got home); Iori simply watched, still steady as a rock.

Hikari stilled, continuing to stare at Iori, as inspiration struck. “Iori-kun, can you and Digmon drill underground, sneak by everyone, and destroy the tower while they’re focused on us?”

Iori looked at Armadimon, who looked back at him with a grin and nodded. Iori straightened with purpose and said, “It’s no problem, Yagami-san.”

“Thank you,” she said, “Tailmon, get us as close as you can, then we’ll digivolve.”

Tailmon’s earlier prediction that they wouldn’t be able to get much closer was right. All too quickly, Tailmon led them to the shadow of one of the supply buildings and Hikari gave the order to digivolve. Knowing the light of it would give them away, Hikari didn’t waste time before jumping onto Nefertimon’s back and flying for the tower.

Nefertimon paused in the air in front of the Kaiser, flanked by Pegasmon and Holsmon. The Kaiser looked up at them and waved, nothing in him at all surprised by their appearance. “Yo,” he said and Hikari was beginning to hate that word. The Kaiser straightened from his recline against the tower. “There you all are.”

Behind her, Hikari could hear the factory going into alert, Ringed digimon rushing to their position. There was the great heave of air beneath wings over her, then XV-mon glided down to hover above the Kaiser.

Hikari glared at them both. “How did you know we were here?”

“Honestly,” the Kaiser said then shrugged, “didn’t. Not until I was already flying in. Got a peek at you all scurrying around as we landed. Got lucky.” He paused, then leaned forward a little, like he was going to share a secret. “And well, if we’re going to be fighting for a while, you should know, I have frankly phenomenal luck. Truly, the universe loves me.”

Takeru snorted disbelief; it didn’t seem to faze the Kaiser, who just grinned up at him, seemingly infinitely amused. “Takaishi, good to see you. Color coordinating your hats to your bruise now, are we?”

Takeru glared at the comment; his bruise had finally began to fade and was now mostly yellow-green, which did unfortunately match his yellow hat.

Hikari looked between her two teammates, who nodded back their readiness. Hikari curled her hands tightly around the edges of Nefertimon’s chest plate, pressed her knees to Nefertimon’s flanks, and held on as Nefertimon dove down. They’d barely started moving when the Kaiser leapt up onto XV-mon and the two shot up towards them. XV-mon ducked around her attack, flew through the opening she’d left until he was behind them.

Momentum kept them moving forward; Nefertimon managed to shift so she braced her legs against the tower rather than crash into it. Hikari clung tighter, hands aching as metal dug into her palms, until Nefertimon bunched up and shoved off. Pegasmon and Holsmon were already fighting XV-mon, who was letting them steadily push him back. He had to be letting them; XV-mon was too fast to not be able to take advantage of the holes they left with only two of them fighting. Drawing them away from the tower, Hikari supposed, which was just fine. She had faith Iori could handle it on his own. Nefertimon charged back in.

The battle devolved to chaos soon after. Many of the Ringed digimon took shots off at them, though only a few had the reach on their attacks to hit. XV-mon let them force him back but, in return, he didn’t let them climb high, out of the reach of everyone on the ground. So they were left dodging attacks on all sides, struggling not to take too many hits, trying to decide second by second which attack they could afford to take damage from if it meant dodging another. Hikari’s legs ached from the stress of clinging to Nefertimon and there was a sharp, knife-edge pain in her palms that told her she’d broken through the upper layers of skin holding onto the armor too tightly. She didn’t have a choice but to cling as tightly as she could; XV-mon, when he wasn’t playing a game of positioning, attacked with a force that attempted to throw her with every hit.

He was targeting her specifically, she knew, way more often and so much harder than the fly-swatting brush offs he used against the others. The others attempted to intervene, but XV-mon was fast and they couldn’t focus on him wholly when the Ringed digimon continued to shoot at them.

There was, behind her, a great explosion of sound. Hikari looked over her shoulder, trusting Nefertimon to keep an eye on their enemies, and watched as a long fissure carved its way across the base of the tower. On the ground, Digmon aimed another attack, ignoring the Ringed digimon that suddenly shifted attention onto him.

Nefertimon suddenly dropping ten feet stole her attention back; she ducked as close to Nefertimon’s back as she could as XV-mon flew overhead. XV-mon wheeled around to face them again. One of the Ringed digimon attacked and, attention divided between XV-mon and Digmon, Nefertimon took it full in her left wing.

The wing crumbled and they dropped uncontrollably for several more feet. By the time they straightened again, they were surrounded on all sides by attacks from slaves. Nefertimon threw herself skyward, up to their previous level, but she was panting heavily, sides heaving beneath Hikari’s legs. Hikari wanted to pet her, smooth her hands down her sides in comfort, but her fingers were frozen around the edge of the chest plate.

They was another explosion from near the tower and when Hikari looked, she saw Digmon being forced back from it in order to protect Iori from attacks. Hikari grit her teeth, forced herself to unclench one hand, and waved at Miyako. “Help him,” she ordered.

Miyako hesitated for only a second, then wheeled away and flew towards Digmon.

XV-mon let her go, didn’t even seem to notice her leaving; both him and the Kaiser were wholly focused on Hikari and Nefertimon. _Tunnel vision, maybe,_ Hikari thought, couldn’t find another explanation for his actions.

XV-mon dove at her, stealing her attention away from the tower. Hikari braced for another attack and so wasn’t prepared for XV-mon to grab one of Nefertimon’s wings, claws clenching tight in the feathers. Nefertimon cried out, surprise, pain, her other wing flapping wildly but not doing any good. XV-mon’s grip held tight. The glow of the ‘x’ on XV-mon’s chest was the last thing Hikari was aware of.

*****

Hikari awake to a sharp, terrible pain in her right shoulder. It was the kind of pain that stole her breath, her attention, and the first ten thoughts she had. She tried to breath through it and, as the pain burned clean any fuzziness from being unconscious, realized a few things all at once.

1) Her right wrist was pinned to a wall.

2) Being limp, all of her weight was hanging from where she was pinned, straining her shoulder.

3) The Kaiser was watching her.

She struggled to get her feet under her, eyes pinned on the Kaiser. He was sitting on a large boulder, resting his weight back against his palms; XV-mon was standing just behind him, eyes on the sky, posture tense and waiting.

Hikari couldn’t help the quiet sound of relief that fell out of her when her weight was off her shoulder, pain immediately easing to an ache. Despite a deep wish to keep her eyes on the Kaiser and XV-mon, she looked around at where she was, trying to find a way out. There was a thick black metal cuff around her right wrist, pinning to a wide cliff face. A semi arid desert stretched out around her, all red dust and rocks.

Tailmon was laying only a few feet away, unconscious and horribly scratched up. “Tailmon!” she shouted and struggled against the restraint, trying to get to free to go to Tailmon. The cuff bit into her wrist, sharper than she’d been expecting.

“Calm down,” the Kaiser said, “There’s no need to worry so much. I promise.”

“Why should I believe that?” Hikari demanded, “What have you done to her?”

“Not much. She wasn’t very happy about you being taken. But she’ll be fine once she wakes up.” The Kaiser stood and took a few steps towards her. “We need to talk.”

“Talk? Really?”

“Yeah,” the Kaiser said. He shrugged briefly, appearing unconcerned. That appearance lasted for only a second, then he looked her right in the eye and continued in an utterly serious voice, “You’re leader now, princess, and someone needs to explain the situation to you. You’re going to lose this war.”

“Screw you,” she said viciously.

The Kaiser sighed and moved so he was sitting down again. He braced his elbows on his knees and met her eyes again. “It’s the truth. It’s not your fault. You simply entered this war too late. You’re outnumbered. You have no home ground. Half of your team has no experience. We have all the territory and all the resources. What can you possibly do?”

“A lot,” Hikari said. She glared at him, still tugging lightly at the cuff. “We’ve done a lot more with a lot less.”

“If by less, you mean twice the number of Chosen, more allies than you can count, and digivolution to Ultimate, sure.”

Hikari bit her tongue against the frustration and anger, able to do little more than glare and listen.

The Kaiser shrugged. “You’re good, princess, I’ll give you that. A year earlier, I’d be worried. But right now, where we all stand in this war, you’d need a miracle to win. Even your Child of Hope has to be realizing you’re in over your heads.” He paused, and even with the mask, she could see the way his eyes flickered down, focused briefly on her goggles. “And, frankly, princess, you’re just no Taichi.”

There was a moment of cold, of her stomach dropping down to her feet. Then she realized how closely the Kaiser was watching her, gold eyes attentive to her every reaction. _Oh_ , she thought, _he’s trying to make me afraid. He wants me to second guess myself_. Fury burned away the fear, the pain, the insecurity. “Go to hell,” she hissed, “I know what you’re doing.”

“I should hope so. I’m not being subtle about it.” The Kaiser shrugged again, looking wholly unconcerned. “Doesn’t make it less true.”

There was a groan from next to her, pulling her attention away from the Kaiser. Her anger vanished for relief when she saw Tailmon shaking herself awake. Tailmon stumbled to her feet in a slow, dazed way, still shaking her head. “Tailmon!” Hikari called, beginning to tug in earnest.

Tailmon’s eyes sharpened on Hikari just as XV-mon refocused; he stepped forward, tall and menacing, wings spread wide. “Don’t move,” he ordered Tailmon, “I don’t want to have to hurt her.”

Tailmon looked at where Hikari was pinned to the cliff and froze, one long, tense line of muscle. She glared poison at XV-mon and the Kaiser but sat back, unwilling to risk moving with Hikari vulnerable.

Hikari tugged at the cuff again, more violently this time. She turned her full attention to it, not caring about how the metal dug into her wrist, and tried to force the fingers of her free hand under the band and wedge it free. She didn’t get anywhere; the metal remained tight despite her efforts.

The Kaiser ignored her struggles, merely continued talking, voice pitched to where she couldn’t ignore it, “You can’t win the war, but you can surrender. We’re willing to give you terms, even. Leave this world and don’t come back. If you hand over your digivices, you can take your partners with you. All of them. We won’t stop you. We don’t need them.”

Hikari paused in her clawing, an odd thought occurring to her. “Hey,” she said and turned her head enough to look at him. “Why do you keep using we?”

There was a long silence.

The Kaiser looked at her, eyes a little stunned beneath his mask. Hikari held his gaze, not sure why it had struck her so hard, but unable to shake the feeling that something was weird about the phrasing. The Kaiser and XV-mon were partners, but she’d never gotten the impression XV-mon was part of the decision making process in regards to the actions of the Empire. He helped command battles, she knew, but he followed the Kaiser’s lead. The Kaiser said we like he was speaking of a complete equal.

The Kaiser laughed suddenly, a disbelieving little sound, all shocked. “Oh, hell, maybe I have to reconsider you all being _complete_ idiots. Where’s that willful denial of yours now?”

Hikari caught sight of dark shapes against the sky, just over the Kaiser’s shoulder. She glanced over at them long enough to realize it was the others, flying steadily closer. Immediately she dropped her eyes back to the Kaiser, unwilling to give away their location. XV-mon was still focused on Tailmon, watching her every move, so Hikari turned her full attention to keeping the Kaiser occupied. Only another minute or two and the others would be right over them.

“Why are you doing this?” she demanded, “Taking over a world, fighting a war. All the pain, all the suffering, and not just the digimons. You’ve been fighting in the battles, you had to have gotten hurt, probably badly. Why? Why do this?”

“So many reasons,” the Kaiser said, voice quiet, “We’d need a year to unpack them all. Even if I told you, would you really care? Is there anything I could say that could get you to see from my perspective? To fight with me?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head.

He nodded, like that was the response he’d been expecting. “Then what’s the point of telling you? If you’re not really going to listen, it’s none of your business.” He looked over at XV-mon, eyes distant, and for a second, his shoulders slumped, something that was disappointment, maybe even defeat falling over him. “Shame. I had hoped…”

In the little silence that followed his quiet words, Holsmon’s “ _Tempest Wing!_ ” echoed with all the power of a bomb. The attack hit the ground just in front of the Kaiser and the resulting force caught him full in the chest. Hikari watched as he was sent briefly into the air, only to land and roll bonelessly dozens of feet away. XV-mon gave a wordless cry and took off to his side.

Digmon filled her view, Iori balanced on his shoulders. Iori smiled at her, all relief, as Digmon carefully pressed one of his drills to where the cuff met the cliff. “You’re alright?” Iori asked.

She couldn’t help the little sigh of relief when the cuff fell off. She nodded at Iori in reassurance and turned in time to catch Tailmon leaping at her. Holding Tailmon close against her chest, she looked over at the Kaiser and saw him slowly rising to his feet. There was fury in his eyes; worse, it was a fury mirrored in XV-mon, whom she had never seen even angry before. She very suddenly did not want to face them when they were both upset. She turned away and motioned Holsmon to fly down enough that Digmon could boost her onto his back. She settled behind Miyako as quickly as possible, Tailmon tucked into her arms. “I’m alright, I’m alright, but let’s go!” she shouted at the group.

She looked down again, saw the Kaiser on his feet, glaring up at them. He was having to hold onto XV-mon’s arm, looking a little off balance, and as they rose into the air and began to fly away, he made no move to follow them.

“The answer,” she shouted down at him, voice pitched above wind and wings, “is _never_!”

The group flew off, unhindered in their escape. As soon as the Kaiser vanished behind them, Miyako turned and engulfed her in a hug. “Oh my god, we were so worried,” Miyako breathed against her hair, voice a little shaky.

“I’m alright, I promise,” she said. Then she repeated herself, raising her voice again so the others could hear. “Let’s go home. We’ll talk there, yeah?”

There were agreements all around and the group moved as one to fly to the nearest gate home. The trip was silent. Miyako held her hand in a tight grip and absolutely refused to let go. Though pain was starting to settle back in as the adrenaline faded, pulsing in her palms and wrist and shoulder, Hikari made no effort to pull away. She held on just as tightly, took comfort in the hold, in having a friend so close. Tailmon stayed pressed against her chest, curled up in her arms and purring, a constant, low hum of sound. The boys followed in close formation, never straying far away; though they didn’t say anything, she could feel their attention on her. It pressed in on her, like an anchor, keeping her steady.

By the time they’d landed and gone through the gate, pain and exhaustion had set in fully. She groaned as she stumbled into the human world, her muscles shaking with the efforts of the day. Miyako settled an arm around her shoulders and Hikari leaned against the older girl thankfully.

Takeru stepped close, eyes looking her over, sharp and attentive. “Sure you’re fine?” he asked, eying the angry red skin of her wrist.

“Tired,” she said, because it seemed the easiest, most obvious pain to admit to. Exhaustion was sinking into her marrow, to the point where falling asleep on her feet seemed a totally reasonable idea. Miyako’s arm tightened around her, steadying her and clutching her close.

“We’ll walk you home,” Iori said. Gently, he reached forward and took Plotmon from her slackening grip, holding her close despite the sleepy, annoyed growl it got him. Hikari nodded, unable to do much else.

About all Hikari registered of the walk home was Miyako’s warmth against her side, the drone of conversation around her. She let herself drift, safe and warm, for the whole of the walk. 

Taichi was already home by the time they arrived; his eyes widened when he saw them and he rushed to her side. Miyako pulled away so Taichi could grip her shoulders, staring at her with a face full of concern. “Are you okay?” he asked, voice pitched just a bit too loud with his worry.

“Yeah, promise,” she said. She rubbed the lingering daze from her eyes, scrubbed at her cheeks until she was clear-headed. “Rough day.”

Taichi kept looking her over for another few seconds, taking in the scratches, the slowly appearing bruises, the dust she was no doubt covered in, run through with dried lines of sweat. He sighed, sadness slipping into his expression, and released her. “Well, as long as you’re not hurt too badly.”

He turned towards the others and attempted a smile. “Are you going to be staying for a while?”

Pretty much to the one, they all shrugged. “I’m not expected at any particular time,” Takeru said simply.

Miyako scratched at some of the dust on her collarbone with a grimace. “I do want to go home and shower, I feel disgusting,” she said, then paused and looked at Hikari with wide eyes, “But I want to make sure you’re alright first.”

“I am alright,” Hikari insisted.

“Well, make yourselves at home while you’re here,” Taichi said, “Water?”

“Yes, please,” Takeru said, a little relief in his voice.

While Taichi went about getting water and various snacks for the team, Hikari led them to the living room. The team spread out on whatever vertical surface they could; Hikari couldn’t help her little sound of relief as she sat down, weight easing off the sore muscles of her legs. Clinging to Nefertimon in fights was getting easier, but the aftermath still involved a lingering ache.

Plotmon immediately jumped from Iori’s arms so she could sit down in Hikari’s lap. Hikari settled one hand in the fur at her nape, rubbing gently. Plotmon huffed out a long breath, the effort moving through her whole body, then fell into a doze, worn down by injuries.

“Can I see your wrist?” Miyako asked, scooting up next to her. Hikari smiled at her gently and held out her hand; Miyako took it with more care than Hikari thought was wholly necessary and ran her fingers over her bruising wrist, over the patches of skin that had dried and split open from her struggles. The cuts weren’t deep enough to bleed, but they were uncomfortable and she couldn’t help shifting under even Miyako’s light touch.

Hikari looked away from Miyako’s examination, focused on her face, expression intense, tongue poking out a little; the boys sitting opposite them, watching with concern and relief. “What happened?” she asked, “Last thing I remember was XV-mon grabbing Nefertimon’s wing.”

“Not much,” Iori said, “Miyako-san and I managed to take the tower down. The digimon stopped fighting us once they were free so we turned to help you.”

“You were gone,” Miyako muttered, voice sad.

“I saw him grab you,” Takeru said,” We tried to help but,”

“One of the slaves got a lucky shot in at us,” Tokomon continued, “We fell. By the time we straightened, you all were gone.”

“Are you really okay?” Upamon asked.

“Yes, absolutely,” she said again. She smiled reassuringly down at Upamon. “He didn’t do anything after chaining me up.”

Taichi walked over, hands full of the water bottles they kept stocked for his soccer practice and various snacks. He handed them out, smiling a little at the overwhelming gratitude he got from human and digimon alike. Host tasks done, he sat down on Hikari’s free side. “What happened?” he asked.

Hikari sighed and explained to him what had happened, told the whole team about his offer for surrender. Takeru scoffed, disbelief all over his face. “No way.”

“We’re not just going to quit,” Miyako said, equally fierce.

“I know,” Hikari said, “I never doubted that.” Doubted other things maybe, and _princess_ still echoed in her head too much to just shake off, but she’d never doubted them. Whatever the Kaiser said about their chances, about even Takeru giving up, she’d never doubted them.

There was a moment of silence, then Miyako made an irritated sound and started scratching at the dust along her jawline. “Alright, I can’t, I’m sorry, I’m a mess and it itches. I have to go,” she said hurriedly.

Hikari laughed a little, nodded in agreement. “Okay. I’ll see you later.”

Miyako smiled wide and leaned in to hug her quickly. That done, she swooped down to pick up Poromon from where he was eating the various snacks that had been set for the digimon. “Bye bye,” she said, waving widely as she walked towards the door.

Almost immediately, Iori followed her out. Takeru lingered, watching as Taichi gathered empty water bottles and half-eaten plates of snacks. Once Taichi left for the kitchen, and they were left somewhat alone, Takeru focused purely on her. “Why did you give the order to attack?” he asked.

She stilled, hand frozen mid-pet across Plotmon’s back. “You think it was the wrong call?”

“I think it’s something I wasn’t expecting from you,” Takeru said. He was watching her, eyes too sharp, and she had to resist not squirming. The downfalls of knowing someone all your life was that they saw right through you at the worst times. “You don’t really charge right in like that. I was surprised.”

“Sorry,” she muttered. She curled one finger over the band of her goggles, tugging at it until the back pressed into her neck, grounding her.

Takeru’s eyes flickered to the movement and his lips thinned. “What were you thinking?” he asked. It could have come off disapproving, could have reflected some of the anger she thought she could see in his eyes, but instead his voice was nothing more than blankly curious, attempting to understand his leader and friend.

She tugged harder on the goggles, let out a heavy breath. “Does it matter?” she asked, “It’s over with.”

“You don’t have to try and be Taichi-san,” Takeru said, and there was the sharpness in his voice she’d been expecting, “No one expects you to be. Just do what you think you should.”

_I don’t know what that is_ , she thought, a little desperate. _There’s so much I could do, how do I even decide?_

Takeru sighed and stood up. “I’m gonna go too,” he said. He took a deep breath and let the irritation fall away. He smiled. “I’m really glad you’re okay.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said. She stayed sitting while he walked away, pausing only briefly to say goodbye to Taichi, then leaving.

After a moment, Taichi dropped down next to her again. “How are you doing?” he asked, voice serious in a way it hadn’t been before; less older brother, more former leader.

“I think I messed up,” she managed to say after a few seconds, hands shaking on Plotmon’s back. Plotmon continued to snore away, caught in a deep healing sleep.

“Well, I wasn’t there, so I can’t say anything about that,” Taichi said slowly, “But no one got hurt too badly, so I wouldn’t obsess over it. It’s alright to have a few false starts, you know. We all need time to find our feet.”

“We don’t have time,” she said, “We’re playing catch up as it is and I don’t… I don’t know what to do.”

“Some advice? Share the responsibility,” He reached forward and gently covered her hands with his. “I didn’t do it alone, you know. I had Yamato and Sora there to keep my head on straight, knock me around when I needed it. Talk to your team, let them share some of the weight. You don’t have to be an island, Hikari.”

She took a deep breath and looked over at him. “How often did you listen to Yamato-san and Sora-san?”

“Not nearly enough,” he said immediately, “And looking back, I would have saved us all a lot of trouble if I’d listened more often. Maybe not all the time, but some of it. Learn from my mistakes.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” she said.

Taichi smiled. “Why don’t you go take a shower? You need it.”

“Rude,” she said. Taichi arched one eyebrow and swiped a finger across her forehead. When he drew back and held it up, it was covered in a thin layer of red dust. Hikari huffed a laugh and, after gently moving Plotmon to the couch next to her, stood. “Alright, fine, I’m going. ...Thank you.”

“I’m always here for you,” Taichi promised, eyes serious.

“I know,” she said, and couldn’t stop the pounds of relief that filled her voice.

She did think about what Taichi said. That night, she curled into bed, Plotmon tucked into the curve of her body, and couldn’t stop thinking, no matter how hard she tried. She thought about Iori, steady as a mountain, noble and good down to his core; Miyako, who was honest with every emotion she felt, who was friendly and inviting and easily lovable; Takeru, who she’d grown up with and knew every bit about, who was warm and optimistic and eager to help. All of whom would gladly help her, listen to any thoughts she had. All of whom were much better people than she was.

And she’d been the one made team leader. She thought herself into corners; when she didn’t, she stopped thinking altogether.

She laid awake for most of the night, chasing her own thoughts, unable to shake the thought that if she was just a little better at… everything, she’d know exactly how to end the war, how to keep everyone safe.

When she dreamed, it was of red dust; of the burn of the foundry; of XV-mon in a fury; the Kaiser, almost mocking in his patience and certainty, playing with fears like it was a chess game.

****

When Taichi asked, almost a week later, if she was going to Daisuke’s practice game, she was eager for another distraction. Though she hadn’t seen the Kaiser again since their talk, and the number of Ringed digimon they’d been forced to fight was minimal, Hikari couldn’t shake away doubts. Couldn’t shake away the thought that, however much the Kaiser was playing with her, he was right about one thing. She was no Taichi; she had no idea what she was doing.

The thoughts had haunted her into her sleep, where she found no rest. She felt tired and sore constantly; she was almost getting used to it.

So when the offer to attend the practice match came, she leapt.

She could feel Taichi watching her as they walked to the field, knew he was eying the circles slowly appearing under her eyes. “I’m fine,” she said, not looking over at him, “I just didn’t sleep that well.”

“You’ve been saying that a lot lately,” Taichi muttered, not sounding very pleased. After another second he asked, “Any thoughts you want to share?”

“I’m good,” she promised.

“...Okay.”

Daisuke was waiting for them when they showed. He waved widely, grin close to splitting his face. “Yo!” he called. Hikari bit back a wince at the call, yanked down hard on the surge of fight-or-flight that filled her; she wished he wouldn’t use that word, he always sounded so much like the Kaiser when he did. But she couldn’t tell him not to. How would she even begin to explain?

Instead she raised one hand to wave back, let his familiar smile warm her through.

“There you are,” Daisuke said as they stopped in front of him, “I was wondering if you were going to show. Inoue’s already here.”

“Eh, she is?” Hikari asked.

“In the stands, ogling the players,” Daisuke said, pointing over his shoulder with a wide grin.

“Well, we’re here now,” Taichi said. He clapped one hand to Daisuke’s shoulder, grinning encouragingly. “We wouldn’t miss cheering you on, even if it is just a practice match.”

“Practice matches are very serious affairs,” Daisuke said, attempting to match his tone to the weight of his words. It only lasted a second, then he broke and continued brightly, “Also, captain’s eager to talk to you.”

“Takekawa-kun took over after me, right?” Taichi asked.

“Yeah,” Daisuke said, nodding. He smiled bright and teasing, but she didn’t think the teasing was for them. “He’s been starry-eyed since he heard you were coming.”

“Then I’m going to go say hi,” Taichi said. He started to walk off, then paused and looked back at Daisuke. “Yamato said Takeru-kun might be coming as well. Not sure. He’s not as big on soccer as we are.”

“Sure, I’ll keep an eye out for him. And remember, my team wins, you owe me lunch.” Daisuke waved at Taichi, a little shooing motion, ignoring Taichi’s little scoffing sound. Daisuke turned to her with a grin. “All his old teammates, so eager to see their old senpai again,” he told her.

She laughed a little. “He was a good team captain.”

“Come on.” Daisuke motioned her to follow him. “I’ll show you to Inoue.”

“Thanks.”

They’d barely started walking before Daisuke asked, “You okay? You look sad.”

She huffed a quiet, unamused breath, but couldn’t find it in her to be angry with the questioning. She knew she didn’t look the best; exhausted probably, but no one had said she’d looked sad before. She glanced over at him, hoping to get a read on his expression, and found he wasn’t looking at her. Somehow that made it easier to admit, “I’ve been under a lot of stress lately.” And then, because Daisuke wasn’t on the team, didn’t know about the Digital World or the stakes involved, all of which made talking to him so much simpler than the others, she continued, “I keep having to make these decisions. And I can’t stop thinking about it. About making the wrong choice. If I do, a lot of people are going to get hurt.”

Daisuke made a soft sound of sympathy and stopped walking. They paused in the shadow of the stands and, not looking at her still, he turned and leaned against the stand supports. “You can’t worry too much, you know. If you do, you might freeze when the time comes to make them.”

“I get that but, I can’t just not think about it. What if what I decide is the wrong thing?”

“Then you accept the consequences and you move on.” Daisuke shrugged, looking up at the sky. “The trick is, finding the choice with the consequences you can live with. Look over everything you know, consider all the possibilities, and make as an informed a choice as you can. And when the time comes, find a way to live with what’s happened and keep going.”

“That’s… rather wise of you,” she said, because it didn’t sound anything like Daisuke.

Daisuke finally looked at her and grinned. “Thanks. But I’m an idiot so I don’t follow that advice at all.”

“Really?” she asked, amused.

“Really. I just jump in and breeze by on luck. I have a lot of it, you know.”

She laughed a little, warmed by the brightness of his smile, the teasing in his voice. “Thank you,” she said.

He shrugged like it was nothing and pushed himself off the stands. “It’s nothing. Everyone has choices they’re afraid to make.”

She smiled, feeling lighter just for having admitted to some of her troubles, and continued following him to the stands. There wasn’t much of a crowd since it was only a practice match, just a few people who probably had friends on the team like them. She could see Taichi on the field, talking with some of the older players he’d used to be on a team with. Miyako grinned bright and wide when she saw her. “Hey, Hikari-chan, there you are.”

“Hey, it’s good to see you,” she said. She turned back to wave at Daisuke, “I’ll see you after the game.”

“Definitely,” Daisuke assured. He waved as well, shared a grin with Miyako then jogged off to the rest of his team.

“Iori-kun said he isn’t going to be able to make it,” Miyako said as she sat down, “He and his grandfather have some family tradition going on today or something.”

“It’s fine. This isn’t mandatory or anything.” She looked around briefly. “Though Takeru’s apparently coming as well.”

“Oh, that’s great,” Miyako said, bright and cheery. She sighed happily and leaned forward. “Oh, why are all the guys on this team so cute?”

Hikari giggled, feeling lighter than she had in a week.

By the time Takeru appeared, the game had almost started. “Am I late?” he asked in a whisper as he sat down next to Taichi.

She shook her head, glancing over at him briefly. The bruise on his face was fading nicely, almost completely gone at this point.

“Almost,” Taichi said.

“Oh good. Perfect timing then.” Takeru leaned forward to smile at her and Miyako. “Hey. How are you two doing?”

“Great,” Hikari answered and watched as some of the lines around Takeru’s eyes softened with unspoken relief.

“Motomiya-kun’s going to kick their asses, right?” Miyako asked Taichi. She was focused on where his team was gathered; even in the tight press of bodies, Daisuke’s red hair was distinctive and impossible to miss.

“Oh yeah.”

“Isn’t this just a practice game?” Takeru asked, “Should they really be going all out so soon?”

“It’s Daisuke,” Taichi said, voice equal parts fondness and irritation. “He doesn’t really do holding back.” Hikari giggled a little at his tone.

When the game began, it only proved Taichi right. Hikari watched Daisuke dash the ball across the field, his smile visible even from the stands. It was a strange smile, half challenge, half something that was almost mocking, designed to dig under the skin. His team dominated the game practically from the beginning. By the end of the first half, Hikari felt almost bad for the opposing team, especially since she could make out how they were getting both disheartened and immensely irritated.

“He really is a powerhouse,” Miyako said, tone full of surprise. She was blinking rapidly between the field and the scoreboard; Hikari thought she looked impressed.

Taichi huffed a laugh. “He’s always been good but middle school. During middle school, he just bloomed.”

“Is he, is he purposely targeting the other team’s captain?” Takeru asked.

“Oh, probably,” Taichi said, “He does that. Has ever since… no wait, he’s always done that.”

Hikari blinked over at her brother, surprised, confused. There was an odd sadness in his eyes she didn’t understand, mixed with age-old affection. “Taichi?”

Taichi glanced over at her briefly before looking back down at the field. That look didn’t leave his eyes. “One of his best friends was the captain of a rival team in shougaku. I was gonna say he picked up the habit playing against him, but thinking about it, no he’s always done that. Think it’s how they became friends in the first place.”

“I see,” she said quietly, only she really didn’t. None of it explained the weird look he had, the softness of his voice, like he was afraid of speaking too loud and drawing attention to something he shouldn’t.

She turned her attention back to the field for the second half. It went just as badly for the opposing team as the first one had. Daisuke didn’t just dominate, Hikari thought, he shone. The rest of the team moved along in his shadow, not lesser for it, but taking advantage; they struck out like a viper when their opponent’s attention was on Daisuke, then slipped back behind his mocking smile. It was purposeful, Hikari thought, Daisuke keeping everyone’s attention on him, as loud and obvious and bright as he was.

The game ended 13-2.

Hikari couldn’t help wincing a little as she looked at the point spread, awash in sympathy for the opposing team.

“Well,” Miyako said, “that was painful.”

Taichi laughed a little. “Yeah, that pretty much describes playing against Daisuke. Kind of really glad we were never on opposing sides.”

“Now what?” Takeru asked, watching as the two teams shook hands.

“Well, I did promise Daisuke food if he won,” Taichi said slowly.

“Why would you do that? You knew he was going to,” Hikari said.

“I don’t know. I think he tricked me into it somehow.” Taichi sighed and stood, stretching until she could hear something in his shoulders pop. “The team’s gonna have to clean up. Then I suppose we could all go out, if you want?”

“I’d love to,” Miyako said immediately, eyes bright.

Taichi laughed and nodded. “I’ll grab Daisuke once the team is finished. We’ll all go.”

*****

Taichi waited until most of the crowd had left and the other team had taken off. The other kids didn’t mind, talked chirply about the game and school and just seemed generally relieved to talk about things other than the Digital World. When he walked to the team, Daisuke was packing up the last of the supplies from the match.

“Daisuke!” he called. Daisuke’s head popped up and he turned to him, eyes bright and curious. Not a hint of the utterly infuriating monster that came out when he played. “Come on, we’re gonna grab lunch.”

“Okay, just let me finish this,” Daisuke called back.

Taichi waited while Daisuke finished packing. Watched while he spoke quickly with Takekawa, then started a half-jog to Taichi. Saw but didn’t hear one of Daisuke’s teammates mutter something as Daisuke passed. Saw Daisuke register the words after a heartbeat of time; registered the change in Daisuke with the distant numbness of knowing he wouldn’t be able to do anything.

Taichi watched Daisuke’s bright smile drain away, his eyes light with a rare fury, every muscle going tight with rage. Taichi was running before he’d really understood what was happening, heart pounding in his chest, but the few feet between them felt suddenly huge.

Daisuke spun and punched his teammate in the face.

It was a quick, seamless action, like he did it all the time. Taichi heard clearly the break of bone. The weird numbness he was trapped in shattered as the teammate screamed and Taichi catapulted back into reality. The other boy was on the ground, blood pouring from his nose; Daisuke stood over him, cursing viciously, and nothing about him had softened. Taichi grabbed Daisuke around the stomach, trying to tug him back, practically lifting the shorter boy off the ground. It wasn’t an easy effort; even ignoring that Daisuke was mostly muscle, he was still struggling for another punch, yanking at Taichi’s hold, spitting curses and flushed with rage.

“Son of a bitch!” Daisuke shouted as the team rushed in. Takekawa kneeled down next to the fallen boy, carefully peeling his hand back from his nose. Taichi glanced over Daisuke’s shoulder, struggling to hold him back, and winced when he saw the messy break of bone. “Fucking cockhole! You mention Ken again and I’m going to break every bone in your body!”

Taichi closed his eyes, feeling his heart sink. _Oh fuck_ , he thought, a little distantly, then made himself open his eyes again and look down at Takekawa. His emotions reflected back at him from Takekawa’s face; of course it did. Most of the boys here had been on teams since at least middle school. Maybe they’d never met him, but they’d heard of Ken ‘The Rocket’ Ichijouji; maybe they didn’t know him and Daisuke had dated, but they’d remember the friendly, ridiculous, epic rivalry between the two; maybe they didn’t remember how his disappearance affected Daisuke, but they’d remember the nation-wide search for him.

“I’ve got him,” Taichi promised Takekawa, watched relief swamp his face. Though it took effort, and his muscles screamed with it, he began tugging Daisuke away. After a few steps, Daisuke stopped struggling quite so hard; Taichi doubted he’d actually given up and so didn’t slacken his hold. He had a feeling if he did, Daisuke would take immediate advantage and break free. So he continued to drag him away, ignoring the low, vicious mutterings coming from him.

“Taichi,” Hikari said quietly as they passed. Her face was full of concern, eyes wide and face pale. All three looked shocked beyond belief at Daisuke’s change.

“Give us a minute,” he ordered shortly and kept moving.

Taichi didn’t release Daisuke until they were safely in the locker room. Daisuke tore away from him violently, stalking through the space while some half-wild thing. “What the hell was that?” Taichi demanded, unsure what to do with the person in front of him.

Daisuke was so often like the sun and most of the time that meant bright smiles and more energy than anyone knew what to do with. Taichi only rarely saw the other side of that, the part ready to explode at anything in reach, that burned too hot to touch safely. The Daisuke that was ready and willing to scorch everything in his path.

“Fuck,” Daisuke cursed, ignoring him. He did another pace of five steps, paused, practically shaking with everything bundled inside him. Then he turned and slammed his fist into the nearest locker.

Taichi jumped. “Daisuke!” he shouted, appalled.

To Taichi’s shock and horror, Daisuke did it again. And again. And again. Continued driving his fist into the metal without pause. “Daisuke! Daisuke, stop!” Taichi demanded. Taichi flinched at the loud crunch of bone and sinew and finally unfroze, leaped forward, and grabbed his wrist. “Daisuke!”

Daisuke shook him off roughly, kicked at the locker with lingering fury, then collapsed onto the nearest bench. He scrubbed at his face with his good hand, the other resting limp in his lap. “Fuck,” he breathed.

Taichi took a deep breath, tried to center himself. Then he kneeled down in front of Daisuke and picked up his hand, examining it closely. The knuckles were split open, wet with blood; his hand didn’t seem to want to open or close completely, his fingers resting half-curled, twitching slightly. Despite that, Taichi didn’t think they were broken and he couldn’t help a sigh of relief. He looked up at the locker and winced at the sight of the caved in door, messy with blood. “Wait here,” he told Daisuke.

He stepped briefly outside and wasn’t surprised to find Hikari, Takeru, and Miyako waiting, all shifting about anxiously. “Hey,” he called and pointed to Takeru, “First aid kit, now.” Takeru nodded and took off. “Another minute,” he told Hikari when she tried to speak.

Taichi returned to the locker room and went about running a few paper towels under the sink. Then he sat down in front of Daisuke and carefully began cleaning the blood from his knuckles. “What did he say?” Taichi asked, calmer now.

Daisuke huffed and seemed to just, wilt. All the energy drained from him and Taichi was left with that tired to the marrow shadow that always appeared with Ichijouji’s memory. “He… He was probably trying to _joke_ , I guess,” Daisuke said, voice sour and disgusted around the word, “He said, I was so good, maybe I’d killed Ken and absorbed his skills.”

Taichi stilled, horror washing through him. Nausea painted the back of his tongue for a long minute. Then he forced himself to swallow it all down, the disbelief and disgust and building anger, and kept cleaning Daisuke’s hand. He bit his tongue against the words that wanted to flood out, steeled his legs against the wish to go and finish Daisuke’s fight.

There was a knock on the door, then Takeru stuck his head in. “I’ve got the kit,” he said quietly, like he was afraid to speak louder. Taichi motioned him in and took the box from him gratefully.

“Your captain wants to see you, once you’re settled,” Takeru said, watching Daisuke. Daisuke nodded wordlessly and assisted Taichi in wrapping up his knuckles. There was an efficiency to the action that made Taichi want to sit back and examine his friend, figure out when Daisuke had learned how to do it.

Taichi glanced up at Takeru briefly, then had to pause. Takeru was staring at the dented locker with furrowed brows; when Takeru glanced back down at Daisuke, there was a strange mix of wariness and consideration on his face Taichi didn’t like.

“All done,” Taichi said, patting Daisuke on the arm.

Daisuke smiled, but it was empty and exhausted. “Gonna go talk to Takekawa-san. Don’t wait up.”

Taichi watched Daisuke walk away then told Takeru, “He deserved it. The boy Daisuke punched.” Takeru looked over at him, eyebrows still drawn, and Taichi wasn’t sure he understood the look on his face. “If it had been me, I would have done more than just break his nose.”

Takeru’s face blanked briefly in surprise. Then he said, slow and cautious and Taichi wished he understood what Takeru was thinking, “Motomiya-kun tried to do more, remember?”

“Whatever you’re thinking, let it go. He has my support.”

Takeru hummed then took a noticeable second to redirect his thoughts. His smile was tentative and hesitant. “Do you want to stay here? The three of us can go to lunch ourselves.”

“I-” Taichi hesitated, biting at his lip. He did want to stay, to be with Daisuke. When it came to Ichijouji, Daisuke was mercurial, unpredictable. There was no saying how the come down was going to affect Daisuke and Taichi wanted to be nearby if Daisuke needed him. But Daisuke had said not to wait up, so he probably wasn’t going to want to talk for a while, wasn’t going to want Taichi’s company.

Though his moods were unpredictable, if Taichi had to say, he would bet Daisuke was already planning to disappear to Tamachi for a while.

“No, let’s go. I promised.”

*****

Taichi got a call from Daisuke later that night, informing him he’d been banned from club activities for a month. He’d sounded fine when he spoke and Taichi felt a little of the tension binding his chest loosen in relief.

“Daisuke-kun okay?” Hikari asked, looking up from her homework, not even needing him to say who had called.

“Yeah, he’s good,” Taichi agreed.

“Takeru said you agreed with him,” Hikari said.

“I do not agree with Daisuke punching someone,” he said immediately, “But all things considered, if I had been standing where Daisuke was when that asshole opened his mouth, I can’t say I would have done differently.”

Hikari sighed, more affectionate than anything. Taichi paused and looked her over. There was a tension to her, still, always was these days, and despite her attention on him, he could tell her thoughts were elsewhere.

He sat down next to her, ignoring the textbook she had propped open in her lap. “You gonna talk to me?”

There was a moment’s pause, then Hikari set aside her books and turned to face him. “During the Kaiser’s whole, surrender now speech, he kept using the word we.”

“We?”

She nodded. “Yeah, like ‘ _we’ll_ let you surrender’ and ‘ _we’ll_ let the partners go’ and ‘ _we_ don’t need them’. It’s stupid, I know but I can’t stop thinking about it. I’ve just got this feeling he wasn’t talking about himself and XV-mon.”

He hummed and tried to turn the thought around in his head. “If he had an ally besides XV-mon, we would have heard by now, right? Rumors, at least.” Hikari made a sound of agreement next to him. “Maybe it’s the royal we. He’s arrogant enough for that, right?”

“Taichi,” Hikari said, giving him an annoyed look.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know.” He shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. It might be nothing. If there is someone else, we’ll figure it out. Just keep doing what you’re doing.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” He stood, stretched, and smiled down at her. “I’m gonna head to bed. You good?”

Hikari nodded, smiling.

Taichi grinned at her and headed to bed. He laid there for some time, turning the idea over in his head. A partner. Surely they would have heard something. Yet Taichi couldn’t shake the feeling of something being wrong. _Something’s not fitting right here_ , he thought and couldn’t pinpoint what.

The thought stayed with him long into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do I know anything about soccer? Fuck no. Am I still going to use it in ways the game probably doesn't support to emphasis and foreshadow Daisuke's mentality in regards to long-term war strategy? Fuck yes.
> 
> chapter title from 'Fire Fire' by Flyleaf


	5. Betrayal, That Old Classic of War

Takeru was an optimist.

Well, obviously, he was the Child of Hope. He believed the best of people. He _liked_ believing the best of people, that they were inherently good, that everyone deserved second chances and the shadow of a doubt. It was naive, probably. Takeru didn’t really care.

Takeru liked believing the best of people. That didn’t make him stupid.

The Kaiser looked up at them from the ground, XV-mon at his side as he always was. Takeru glared down at him from astride Pegasmon, whole body thrumming with anticipation for the coming fight.

“So you’re not quitting?” the Kaiser shouted up at them. His arms were crossed over his chest, the line of his shoulders tense; so different from his usual nonchalance, his uncaring arrogance.

“No, not ever,” Hikari said from Nefertimon. There was steel lining every word; she was staring down at him unwavering, not an ounce of hesitation in her. Takeru smiled a little despite his tension, unable to help his flood of pride.

“If you won’t stay away,” the Kaiser said, voice angry, almost vicious, “Then I’m going to have to end you here.”

“You can try,” Miyako snapped.

Even from the air, Takeru could see the Kaiser’s lips thin with displeasure, his eyes practically gold with his fury. A shiver swept down his spine that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with a terrible sense of recognition. Takeru blinked once, twice, but the feeling didn’t disappear. Ignorant of his thoughts, the Kaiser swung himself onto XV-mon’s back and charged them.

Pegasmon swooped up, out of the way of XV-mon’s charge, then banked around so XV-mon was caught between him and Nefertimon. The Kaiser looked between them all, weighing and assessing the situation. Takeru glanced over at Hikari, concerned, because while the two would attack anyone who got close or in their way, they preferred to go after Hikari when they had control of the battle. Hikari didn’t look worried, was focused solely on XV-mon; her jaw was squared, whole body tense and ready.

After another moment of stillness, XV-mon threw himself forward at Nefertimon. Nefertimon’s wings folded and she dropped several feet, causing XV-mon to fly over her. Holsmon swept in after XV-mon, not waiting for a second. “ _Tempest Wing!_ ”

Below, Nefertimon’s wings snapped out to full, caught the wind, and she banked with a quick smoothness Takeru doubted she’d have managed a month ago. Nefertimon twisted around and, only a second after Holsmon, “ _Curse of Queen!_ ”

XV-mon dodged completely around Holsmon’s attack without much trouble, then, caught from below, twisted about so Nefertimon’s attack only nicked the edge of his wing. It was a fast, awkward maneuver that forced the Kaiser into XV-mon’s back roughly. XV-mon steadied with his usual ease, gave a whole body shiver like he was shaking the attack off, and grinned at them widely.

On his back, the Kaiser let go to shake his right hand out, fingers flexing like they were in pain. His gauntlets were gone, Takeru noticed. The Kaiser did have a certain image going for him, one Takeru would bet he’d put a lot of thought into; to see him missing a piece was strange, a mark of something not quite right.

Only a second after noticing his gauntlets were gone, Takeru realized the cause. His right hand was wrapped in bandages.

 _Oh_ , Takeru thought, as if from very far away, with the sinking feeling of many things clicking into place all at once. _Oh_.

Takeru believed the best of people.

It was easy to say the Kaiser and Motomiya Daisuke were nothing alike. Except, of course, the hundred tiny things that were exactly the same. But Takeru liked believing in people, so when he saw those things, he hadn’t given it that much thought. That Daisuke had the same arrogant, antagonizing smirk; the same almost gold eyes; the same way of shaping his greetings, to the point Takeru sometimes got chills; even the same strategies. He’d brushed it off, each and every time, with nothing more than a vague feeling of uneasy recognition; half the time, he hadn’t even been able to say exactly what had unsettled him.

Because, when it came down to it, that was all little things. He’d set it all aside because there was nothing of Daisuke’s bright, easy glee in the Kaiser. There was no way, Takeru thought, that all that warmth and friendliness and open acceptance could be folded and hidden behind the Kaiser’s mask.

But, but.

There was every ounce of the Kaiser’s rage in Daisuke.

Takeru believed in people. That didn’t make him an idiot.

It had been heart-stopping, watching Taichi drag Daisuke off the field, still spitting mad and struggling for a fight; to catch one brief glimpse of Daisuke’s face in the whirlwind of his fury, and see the Kaiser’s eyes staring back at him. Takeru hadn’t been able to shake it, even with Taichi’s reassurances. It was easy to set aside the similarities when Takeru could say the two were nothing alike.

But it had been the Kaiser staring at him from Daisuke’s face and it was Daisuke’s injury on the Kaiser’s hand. Takeru wasn’t _that_ naive.

Despite being in the middle of battle, Takeru let himself have a second; he closed his eyes and let the reality of the whole thing settle in. The detachment of realization was fading and pain was settling in where it had been. Pain, anger, even betrayal. He hadn’t known Daisuke that well but goddamnit, he’d liked him. Trusted him, because it was easy to trust Daisuke. Had even, in those few short moments where Daisuke was something other than warm and smiling, felt sympathy for him, had wanted to help and take care of him.

Bitterness flooded ugly through his veins and he clenched down on the bubble of violence that filled him. He was shaking with it, he knew he was, could actually see it.

 _If I hurt this much_ , Takeru thought, _how’s Hikari going to feel_?

Then he made himself stop, take a deep breath, and focus on the fight. There was work to do.

*****

The Kaiser was targeting her again. Not with the same narrow focus as before, where he’d almost seemed to forget the others; but still, XV-mon kept coming around to attack her when he had the chance. Nefertimon dodged out of the way of one of XV-mon’s charges, then barely managed to curl herself above the lash of his tail.

As XV-mon spun, preparing for another charge, Digmon flew right into his path. “ _Gold Rush!_ ”

XV-mon was forced to drop again to dodge the attack, continued momentum sending him sailing right under them. Digmon, despite that he wasn’t really meant for battle in the air, immediately swept after him.

With XV-mon distracted by Digmon, Pegasmon flew in next to her. “Hikari,” Takeru called. His face was a board mix of emotions, too complicated and quicksilver for Hikari to get a quick read on. “His mask, we need to get it off.”

His voice was lowered, obviously trying not to recapture the Kaiser’s attention, despite how far he was. Despite his volume, Miyako, who had finished a lap around XV-mon, immediately turned to them with wild eyes. “Are you kidding me?” she demanded, “Is that really where we want our attention right now?”

“Takeru?” she asked, peering closely at him. Let her tone ask for her, _Why now?_

Takeru looked back at her, not saying a word. Still, she was beginning to make out the complexities of emotion splattered across his face. There was anger; no, fury, deeper and meaner and burning hotter than Takeru usually did. And below that, pain, raw and new and for no reason she could see. And even below that was something she couldn’t name, but shown bitter and ugly and fierce.

“Okay,” she said, nodding at him. She looked back at Miyako and ordered as sternly as she could through her concern. “Do it.”

Miyako gave an inarticulate cry of frustration but didn’t protest again. The commotion finally recaptured the Kaiser’s attention and with a sudden surge XV-mon broke between them. Hikari refocused on the battle instead of whatever maelstrom spun away inside Takeru.

The order was easier given than accomplished. XV-mon refused to let them close enough to even think about getting a hand on the Kaiser, let alone the firm grip that would be necessary. XV-mon ducked, weaved, lashed out with claw and tail. At another battle, when Hikari wasn’t so focused on her current objective, she would have been proud that no one had taken a serious hit yet; it still took all four of them to be a credible threat against XV-mon, but he was no longer able to simply bat them out of the sky.

Hikari and Nefertimon dove under another attack, wheeled about until they were facing XV-mon again. She caught sight of Pegasmon swinging in from the left, Holsmon already bearing down from above. Nefertimon didn’t need direction. “ _Curse of Queen!_ ”

XV-mon dodged out of the way of the first two attacks, but the third nicked him, sending him tumbling again. Hikari narrowed her eyes at the two suspiciously; her team had improved a lot but they hadn’t improved so much to manage the hit frequency they were accomplishing. Something was wrong. XV-mon was reacting too slow; taking hits he should have dodged.

Digmon flew in as XV-mon settled from the hit, slamming into his side and grappling with him. As they struggled together, Nefertimon snuck up close behind him. “ _Curse of Queen!_ ”

XV-mon abruptly lashed out with his tail, catching Digmon full in the side and causing them to break apart. XV-mon then spun towards her with the speed she usually expected of him. His wings folded abruptly and he plummeted. Several feet and he caught the wind again; his usual maneuver, because it was so much faster to dive and let gravity do the work then try to fight upwards to dodge.

What was not usual was the Kaiser buckling, jarred back and clinging by one hand. After only a second, the Kaiser swung himself back into position. _He’s injured_ , Hikari noticed, staring at the bandaged hand with surprise and a strange, cold dread. The Kaiser didn’t sit astride like Hikari did. Most of his grip was in his hands. Without that usually sure grip, XV-mon was intentionally reacting slower, taking small hits so the force of movement didn’t unseat the Kaiser. _I can use that_ , Hikari though, but wasn’t sure how.

As Hikari thought, the battle continued. XV-mon managed to ram Pegasmon, who went tumbling. Takeru yelped loudly as Pegasmon wheeled, struggling to right himself. Holsmon flew between Pegasmon and XV-mon, giving them time to recover. “ _Tempest Wing!_ ”

XV-mon dodged backwards and Nefertimon swept right into his space, refusing to give him time to attack Pegasmon again. Digmon, having recovered from his own struggle with XV-mon, attacked, not XV-mon, but aimed for the space Nefertimon was driving him into. “ _Gold Rush!_ ”

XV-mon managed to dodge around Nefertimon, but between Digmon and the again charging Holsmon, he hadn’t much room to move. Hikari could almost see the split-second decision in his eyes, where he decided to turn out of Holsmon’s way and take Digmon’s attack full on rather than risk jarring his partner off.

That’s when the Kaiser drew himself up, planted both feet on XV-mon’s back, and all at once shoved off backwards. Hikari watched the arc of his jump with surprise, not fully registering what had happened until the Kaiser reached the height of his jump and began a freefall.

With the Kaiser gone, XV-mon immediately spun out of the way of Digmon with a speed that gave her whiplash just to watch, then began a swift dive after the Kaiser.

The idea hit Hikari just as XV-mon surged under the Kaiser and caught him. She could hear XV-mon grumbling, expression displeased, as the Kaiser began to clamber onto his back. She leaned down to whisper to Nefertimon, “Charge him.”

“You sure?” Nefertimon asked, but she was already moving to do so.

The Kaiser had repositioned and XV-mon was beginning to climb again. They were still close to the ground; XV-mon hadn’t been given much time to regain his height between all the dives. Hikari took a deep breath to settle rapidly building nerves. Then she braced one foot against Nefertimon’s back.

She could see the panic that filled Nefertimon immediately. “Hikari?”

“It’s alright, I’ve got this, I’ve got this,” she said, words spilling faster and faster. She was shaking suddenly, doubts flooding in despite her words.

XV-mon looked up at them, eyes going quite wide. Hikari tightened her grip on Nefertimon’s chest plate, trying to keep her breathing an approximation of steady. _I can do this, I can do this._ As she knew he would, XV-mon began to drop to avoid Nefertimon’s charge. Hikari pulled her other leg up, balancing precariously on Nefertimon’s back. _This was a bad idea_ , she thought wildly, regretting her actions before she even did them.

She jumped.

She tackled the Kaiser; they slammed together and, with his bad grip, they both fell. Shouts of her name got lost in the rush of wind, the frantic beat of her heart. XV-mon shouted as well, so close and loud, but she couldn’t make it out. They fell at an angle, side by side; she got one glance at his eyes, huge behind the mask.

The ground was spinning up beneath them, closer and closer. She could see it. Then, the Kaiser’s arms caught her waist, turning her so he was under her, and all she could see was the black of his coat. She had presence of mind to tangle one hand in the cloth at the back of his head and yank. There was a ripping sound.

Then they hit the ground.

The Kaiser wasn’t much of a cushion, though she landed full on top of him; the shock slammed through both of them, broke them apart and sent them spiralling in opposite directions. For a minute, Hikari just breathed, short, staccato bursts, forcing air back into lungs that had refused it during the fall. She could hear the flap of wings coming closer, her teammates shouting for her. She forced herself to move, a slow, painful climb back to her feet. She looked and found the Kaiser rolled several feet away; he hadn’t stood up yet, so XV-mon was kneeled at his side.

In the space between her and the Kaiser, his mask sat, black cloth caught in the sharp edges.

Triumph surged over the pain. She ignored her team coming in for a landing, jogging for that black mask. She snatched it up and turned to her team, holding it high for them to see. The expression on Takeru’s face was nothing like victory. It looked a little like defeat.

She turned back to the Kaiser, who was climbing slowly to his feet. She walked forward a few feet, closing more of the distance between them, mask clenched tightly in her hand. Nefertimon landed near her and immediately pressed close to her side, ducking under one arm to rub against her side. Hikari smiled, settled her free hand against Nefertimon’s head, and looked forward. “Kaiser!”

He ignored her; one hand picked up his now ruined coat, torn in several places. His shoulders heaved as if in a sigh and he shrugged the remains off.

Hikari slowed to a stop, everything in her going cold. _No_ , she thought desperately. But there was no mistaking that dark red hair; she’d know it anywhere. She didn’t even have to see his face.

“Hikari,” Takeru said quietly behind her, voice soft and remorseful. The others were catching up with her, pressing close on either side.

The Kaiser turned and Daisuke looked back at her.

She dropped the mask.

_No, no, no._

“Motomiya-kun?” Miyako asked, a shocked little exhale.

Daisuke raised one hand in a jaunty little wave. “Yo,” he said; Daisuke’s usual greeting; the Kaiser’s usual greeting; the Kaiser who was Daisuke. Daisuke looked at them all standing there, still and silent. That smirk slipped across his face, lazy and arrogant; Hikari jolted out of her shock straight into horror at the sight of the Kaiser’s smirk on Daisuke’s face. She’d seen that before. How many times had she seen that before? How many times had she brushed it off?

 _Oh god_.

“You know,” Daisuke said, “This isn’t really the kind of reveal I was hoping for. You know, wanted my own terms, that kind of thing. But, I gotta admit, this, this is fun.”

“I… I don’t,” Hikari said, whispered, couldn’t force her voice louder. She thought she had a word for that emotion buried deep in Takeru’s eyes: betrayal.

“Oh come on, _princess_ ,” Daisuke said. She flinched at that word- _that word_ \- coming from Daisuke; at the way he curled it around in his mouth, low and mocking and vicious. She stepped back, almost without meaning to; Takeru gripped her arm, keeping her steady. “Don’t give me that look. Are you really surprised?”

 _I’m going to throw up_.

Iori stepped in front of her; despite his short height, he suddenly seemed to loom, every inch of him brimming with rage. She wanted that, wanted something that wasn’t nausea and hurt and betrayal, wanted something that would stop the cold in her chest, the shaking in her hands. “Leave her alone,” Iori said, steel in every word.

Daisuke looked back at Iori, eyes that molten gold and how, how, _how_ hadn’t she seen it? “You know, you all have willful denial pouring out your ears,” Daisuke said. He turned to look at XV-mon, telling him, “I really don’t think I was being that subtle, but well.” He shrugged.

“Of course we didn’t realize,” Miyako shouted, like her anger would hide the disbelieving crack of her voice, the hugeness of her eyes, how she’d gone pale. “Why would we ever think- we _trusted_ you.”

“Why,” Hikari managed to force out, “Why would you…” _I thought we were friends._

“Why?” Daisuke echoed. His eyebrows shot up for a second, then a contemptuous look crossed his face. “I’m taking over a world. And you think reasons for something like that can be put into something as simple as _words_?” There was a pause where Daisuke watched her, eyes too sharp, filling with anger. Then abruptly he changed, edges softening. He spoke quickly, words light as clouds, smiling bright and chirper, “No, wait, it might fun. Let me try. Let’s see. Love. Hate, revenge, glory. You know, all the classics.”

Silence answered him.

Hikari almost wanted to laugh because there, there was the Daisuke she knew, bright and open and friendly. Yet there was still an edge to his smile she didn’t wholly recognize because she’d never thought of Daisuke as mocking. The laugh caught in her throat, strangled her, until it felt more like a sob.

“I can’t,” she said, the quietest exhale, only for her team.

Daisuke seemed to hear her anyway. “Run home, little princess,” he said, “And reconsider if this is a war you want to keep fighting, now that you know who’s on the other side.”

“Hikari?” Nefertimon asked, pressing fuller against her.

“We’re going,” she ordered. She dug her fingers into Nefertimon’s fur, hoisted herself up. Daisuke watched them go and made no move to interfere.

*****

_“Do you want us to walk you home?”_

_“No, I… I can manage.”_

_“We’ll see you tomorrow.”_

_“Yeah._ ”

On the one hand, Hikari wished for her team, that she had let them walk her home. Wanted Iori’s steady presence, Takeru’s arm around her shoulder, the warmth of Miyako’s hand in her’s. Plotmon walking beside her didn’t feel like enough, couldn’t do anything for how her hands shook or that she couldn’t breathe quite right.

On the other hand, she couldn’t handle them here. They were her team, she had to be strong. She couldn’t shake apart in front of them, couldn’t cry like she wanted. She didn’t want them to see her as anything but decisive.

And really, what had they known of Daisuke? A month of interactions and a handful of half faded memories from shougaku. What was that, compared to the years Daisuke had spent in her house, teasing her and laughing and carrying the sun around in his pocket? She didn’t want them near her, brimming with anger over a boy they barely knew. Not when it felt like she should be _mourning_ someone.

She stopped in front of her apartment door, struggling for her keys with shaking hands. Her eyes were watering and she couldn’t find the right key through the mess; they all looked the same suddenly. She sniffed, trying to blink back the tears. She just wanted to get inside. She wanted to be home already.

The keys slipped through her shaking fingers.

Hikari stared down at the small ring of keys on the floor for several minutes. Slowly, she knelt down to pick them up. The first tear splashed off the key ring, then landed wet and hot on her palm. And that was it. She broke. “I don’t understand,” she whispered through the sobs bubbling up. To Plotmon, to her keys, to the universe at large. Her voice came out a pathetic, weedy whimper of sound and she hated it. “I’ve known him since we were kids. I thought he was my friend.”

 _We grew up together. I remember when he still had baby fat._ They’d never been that close, but Hikari had thought they were friends. She’d thought she knew him.

“Hikari,” Plotmon said, quiet and pained. She nudged up against Hikari’s side, resting her chin in Hikari’s palms. “Come on, Hikari, let’s go inside.”

“I can’t,” she whispered back. She couldn’t bring herself to move; she couldn’t find the strength.

Plotmon whined, pressing herself head firmer into Hikari’s hands. “We just need to get inside,” Plotmon said, tone too sad and worried for the encouragement she was trying. “You can do it.” Plotmon used her nose to shift her keys about in her palm, until the apartment key was separated from the rest. “You can do it.”

Hikari stared at it for a long minute. Despite the hurricane spinning through her, the heavy press of disbelief and betrayal tied about her neck, she found herself smiling. Tears poured down faster. “Thank you, Plotmon.”

She curled her fingers tightly around the key and stood up on shaking legs. She wiped at the tears still leaking down her cheeks, even though they were almost immediately replaced. Her hands still trembled around her keys, but this time she managed to open the door.

As she crossed into the living room, feet dragging, Plotmon still practically tripping over her to stay close, a voice called out to her. “Welcome home, Hikari!”

 _Oh god_ , she thought, looking up and up, _Taichi_.

Taichi paused when she didn’t say anything, looking up from his books with a worried expression. “Hikari?”

She couldn’t tell him. She had to but the words had vanished, hidden somewhere deep in the pits of her stomach. What could she even say? She’d break his heart.

“Hikari? Are you okay?”

She had to tell him. She had to. Despite knowing that, what she said instead was, “I need to lay down.”

Taichi surged to his feet, textbooks falling to the ground, forgotten. “What’s wrong?”

“...I’ll tell you tomorrow,” she managed to force out.

She couldn’t look at him. She couldn’t look him in the eye and know the boy Taichi considered one of his best friends had been lying to them for three years; was so very far from the sweet boy they’d thought they’d known.

She kept her eyes on the ground as she slunk into her room. She closed the door behind her, then slid to the ground, buried her face in her hands, and began to cry in honest. Plotmon whined again and wormed her way into Hikari’s lap. Neither moved for a long time.

*****

Hikari awoke in bed with a headache and the memory of fingers in her hair. Plotmon was still curled up against her chest, sleeping peacefully. There was a glass of water waiting on the bedside table. She could hear Taichi snoring away above her.

Quietly as possible, she levered herself out of bed and downed the glass of water. Her headache eased a little, so she quickly grabbed her school uniform and vanished out the room. The rest of the apartment was still dark. She dressed in the bathroom; other pains were settling in as she awoke more, along her chest and stomach and, well, everywhere, probably from the fall. She smoothed a hand down the front of her uniform and left the bathroom. Plotmon was waiting for her, now wide awake. “How are you doing?” Plotmon asked without preamble.

Hikari paused and breathed deep; she felt numb, like everything was happening far away from her. The pain of Daisuke’s betrayal was still there, buried under a lake of ice, its sharp edges hidden for now. Waiting. All she could do was shrug. “I don’t know,” she admitted.

Plotmon’s eyes went big and sad for a minute, then a look of determination came over her. “I’m going with you to school.”

Hikari didn’t protest.

She walked to the bedroom, leaned against the doorframe as she watched Taichi sleep, sprawled out on the top bunk. “He was up all night, looking after you,” Plotmon said, “I finally talked him into going to sleep.”

“I’d be lost without you,” Hikari said, voice warm.

Plotmon smiled, brief and flickering, before the seriousness of everything set in again. “He asked me what happened,” Plotmon said. A look of intense sadness filled the corners of her face. “I didn’t tell him. I thought, it would be best if he had support with him.”

“Good idea,” she mumbled. She sighed, almost sick with the weight of having to tell him.

Taichi was still asleep when she left for school. Hikari couldn’t help but feel relieved about it, and a little ashamed about that relief.

Her team was waiting at the school gates, even Iori. Hikari headed for them, Plotmon in her wake, not too close but keeping an eye on her. “Hey,” she greeted quietly. She looked at Iori. “You won’t be late for school?”

“I have time,” Iori assured. He stood out; his green chuugaku uniform, the set of his shoulders, the fierce look in his eyes. Usually Iori saved that fire for a fight, was good at setting it aside when they returned home. As much as Hikari appreciated that strength, she worried that he was still in that headspace. “I wanted to make sure everyone’s alright.”

“I still can’t believe it,” Miyako said quietly. She looked exhausted, huge dark circles around her eyes, like maybe she hadn’t slept at all. “I know it's been years but… he was such a sweet kid.”

Hikari winced a little, some if the ice cracking as the memory of Strabimon flickered through her mind. “ _The boy, he was… sweet.”_

“I should have known,” Hikari said, “I know him, I should have seen it.”

“No,” Iori said, “He lied. That’s on him, not us.”

Takeru looked drained, only a little better than Miyako, but he still brightened with Iori’s words, smiling slightly. “Thanks for that,” he said. “I needed to hear that, I think.”

Iori nodded, smiling a little.

Takeru looked back at her and his shoulders drooped, some of that new energy wilting away. His lips briefly pressed into a thin line and he seemed almost hesitant when he asked, “How did Taichi-san react?”

Tension filled the air, thick enough to strangle. Hikari dropped her eyes to the ground. “I haven’t told him,” she admitted, not wanting to see their faces at this admission of weakness. “I mean, what could I even say?”

Silence answered her. Miyako dropped her eyes to the ground, shifting uneasily. Takeru and Iori both looked uncomfortable, like they were trying to line up words in their heads and found it all terrible. After a few seconds, Miyako seemed to shake herself and tried to smile with her usual boastfulness. “How are you feeling?” Miyako asked, looking at Hikari, “From the fall, I mean.”

“Oh, um, I’m alright,” she said. She rubbed at the lingering ache in her chest, “It’s fine, really. The Kaiser… Daisuke-kun took the brunt of the fall.” She thought about that, those brief, endless seconds of falling, where Daisuke had grabbed her and deliberately moved them to take the full force of landing.

“You know,” Miyako said, “I’m still not sure if that jump was really cool or-”

Plotmon growling cut Miyako off. Hikari looked down at her partner in concern, found her standing completely at attention, every muscle tensed in warning. Hikari slowly looked up, already knowing what she’d find. Daisuke sauntered slowly towards them, eyes pinned on them. He looked down at Plotmon briefly, expression flickering with amusement. Hikari ran cold with fear and fury at his eyes on on her partner when Plotmon was still in Child form.

Then Daisuke’s eyes went back to her and all she felt was fear. He grinned, his usual sunny smile, and, for a moment, she could almost… forget. He looked so different from the Kaiser, his school uniform so far from the Kaiser’s black armor and dragon mask; he seemed small and ordinary and young without XV-mon at his side. And she wanted to forget, oh she wanted to.

“Yo,” he said, waving, so companionable, like nothing had happened.

Hikari didn’t reply, couldn’t, was rooted in place. Felt like the whole world had gone a little sideways.

“Hey, Takaishi! Your face is looking better,” Daisuke said, ignoring the growling dog at his feet, the group of four gaping at him speechless. He motioned to where Takeru’s bruise had been, now completely faded. His words were friendly, his smile so bright, but his eyes were too sharp behind it all, watching so carefully. Had it always been like that? Had she simply not noticed? “Really, that took ages. I never would have guessed that, uh, _computer club_ was so dangerous.”

And Hikari had known, was working on accepting, that Daisuke was the Kaiser. Was coming to grips with what that meant: that Daisuke was cruel, ruthless, practically a murderer, nothing like the nice boy she’d grown up beside.

What she hadn’t really realized was that it also meant he had known from the beginning. While they had turned lies into jokes, covered up bruises and exhaustion with whatever minor enjoyments they could find, he had known. When they had gone to his games, stolen minutes at a time with him to hide in the light of his personality, all just to get a break from the stress of the war, he had watched them struggle with the weight and lied to their faces. He had manipulated them from the start.

The next breath she took choked in her throat.

Daisuke’s smile widened, still watching her with those too sharp eyes. He walked past them into the school grounds, not pausing when he clapped her on the shoulder, saying quietly, “See you later, _princess_.”

There was a long silence.

Then, “Fuck,” Miyako said, barely a whisper, “ _Fuck_.”

Plotmon pressed against her leg. “Hikari?” she asked, looking up at her with those big, worried eyes. Hikari shook her head, throat too tight for words.

“Hikari,” Takeru said, looking over at her with wide eyes, “You need to tell Taichi-san. Soon.”

*****

Yamato pounded on the door to Taichi’s apartment, tapping his foot anxiously. His other hand was buried in his pocket, holding his phone tight enough that someone might be worried about it cracking. He resisted the urge to pull it out again; the messages still beat like a kind of poison in his head.

_you should go to taichi’s._

Takeru had sent him the message as Yamato had left class, when Takeru himself should have still been in school.

_why_

The only response he’d gotten to his question had simply been the same text _you should go to taichi’s_ again. The lack of reasoning, the close-mouthed resistance that was so unlike Takeru, had sent Yamato practically running from class to Taichi’s apartment, heart pounding in his chest, in his ears.

Something had happened. Something had to have happened. Was it Hikari? Was she hurt? Had there been an accident in the Digital World? God, what if Taichi had done something stupid? Why could the idiot never just call for help?

He went to knock on the door again, aware he was being impatient, that the stress and worry was probably showing clear on his face, and not caring. Before he could though, Taichi opened the door and stuck his head out. Yamato stopped immediately, stopped everything, the tapping of his foot, the nervous, rhythmic clenching of his hands, maybe even his breathing.

Taichi looked fine.

Tired, but not in a way that indicated any kind of distress, just the exhaustion that came with the need for a nap. He was dressed in casual clothes, the kind Yamato knew meant Taichi had nothing more stressful planned than a day of video games.

“Yamato?” Taichi asked, looking him over. His brows furrowed in confusion and concern. “What are you doing here?”

Yamato felt all his tension evaporate immediately. He had a second to feel relief, breath rushing out of him. _Oh, thank god._ Then irritation set in; he’d been so worried. _Damn it, Takeru_ , he thought, jaw setting. “It’s nothing,” he said, shoulders hitching up as if to hide himself. “Takeru said I should come, is all.”

Taichi blinked at him slowly, still taking him in. “Well, you’re here. You want to play a game?” He asked and held the door open wider.

Yamato considered it. He was annoyed but, well, Taichi was right. He was already there. He huffed, tried to force some of the irritation from his shoulders. He nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

Taichi’s responding smile was blinding.

They settled on the couch, shoulders pressed together, and for a while Yamato lost himself in the familiar pattern of playing against Taichi. However, as time went on and his irritation faded, Yamato couldn’t ignore that Takeru wouldn’t have sent for no reason. Even if everything appeared fine. “Is everything alright?”

Taichi paused. Yamato glanced over at him, found him distant-eyed. “Something happened yesterday,” Taichi admitted after a minute. “Hikari came home upset but, she wouldn’t say what happened. Neither would Plotmon.”

Yamato set his controller down, ignoring the game completely now. “Was she hurt?”

“No, not that I could see. Just, upset.”

“I’m sure she’ll say something eventually,” Yamato said, “Just give her a little time.”

Taichi sighed heavily and sank back into the couch. “I just… I wish I could do something more. I feel useless.”

“Yeah,” Yamato said, thinking about those times he caught Takeru on his way home from the Digital World, usually dirty and bruised and sunburned, tired in a way his determination couldn’t hide. “Yeah, I get that.”

They restarted the game, but the weight of their concern filled the empty space around them, stealing some of the easiness of before.

They kept playing until Yamato heard the front door open. After a few seconds, Hikari walked into the living room, Plotmon plodding after her. Yamato winced a little when he saw her, understanding Taichi’s concern immediately. Unlike Taichi, Hikari’s exhaustion, written plain in every line of her, was definitely of the ‘distressed’ variety. She wasn’t bruised, or dirty, or any of things he’d come to expect from trips to the Digital World, but she looked heart-sore in the worst of ways.

Hikari stilled when she saw him, eyes going quite wide. “Oh, Yamato-san. I didn’t know you were here.”

“Takeru asked me to drop by,” he said truthfully. Relief flickered over her face with such intensity that all of the worry Yamato had left at the door immediately rushed back in. He sat up straight on the couch, waiting, tense.

There was a moment’s pause. Then, Yamato watched as, bit by bit, Hikari locked away all of that exhaustion, all of that pain. Her shoulders straightened and her chin went up and for a second all Yamato could see was the leader she was becoming, strong and determined and unyielding. There was nothing of the little girl who’d once trotted after Taichi, soft-edged and warm.

Taichi had said once that Hikari was the kind of person who wouldn’t hesitate to save the world if someone asked, no matter how sick or tired she was. Yamato had forgotten, in the years of peace, how total that kind of drive could be.

Hikari strode forward and didn’t ask before she turned off the console. “I need to talk to you,” she told Taichi, voice carefully level.

Every part of Taichi turned attentive. But Hikari didn’t stop or sit down, kept walking all the way to the balcony; she slid open the door and then waited there pointedly.

Taichi stood, telling Yamato, “I’ll be back.” Then he walked out to the balcony and Hikari closed the door behind them.

Plotmon jumped onto the couch beside him, settling on the armrest to watch the two through the sliding glass door worriedly. Yamato did the same, though he tried to pretend he wasn’t, that he wasn’t worried at all. He could half-hear them talking, Hikari’s voice soft and gentle in a way Yamato wasn’t sure he liked.

He glanced over at them again, frowning as he took in their body language. Taichi was listening but he didn’t seem happy with what he was hearing. As Yamato watched, Taichi took a step back, one hand rising as if to defend himself. He was breathing too fast, Yamato noticed, eying the erratic movement of his shoulders.

“...-o, no, just _stop_!”

Yamato was moving before Taichi had even finished shouting. He threw open the door and glared at them both. Both looked back at him with wide eyes, Taichi too pale suddenly, his eyes huge. “What is going on?” he demanded.

Taichi made an odd, half-gurgled sound, then turned away. He pressed his hands to the railing of the balcony, head dropping as if under an immense weight. He was breathing too fast, but it was getting short and choppy in a way that sent off alarm bells in Yamato’s head.

Hikari watched her brother for a second, pain clear in her face. Then she turned to look at Yamato and he watched her again try to pack it all up behind the mask of being a leader. She didn’t seem as successful this time. “We were… the Kaiser’s civilian identity. We know it,” Hikari said, voice shaking a little.

Taichi’s shoulders went up, as if to brace himself against a blow. And Yamato knew. Before Hikari could say it, he knew. Watched the set of her shoulders, the tense line of Taichi’s back, the distress radiating off them both. And knew.

Knew with such sharp clarity that it took him a second to register Hikari had spoken at all, and it wasn’t just his thoughts, racing yet seemingly caught in a standstill.

“It’s Motomiya Daisuke,” Hikari said, plowing through the short words like her voice wasn’t cracking on all of them.

Taichi flinched as if someone had struck him.

“The older Chosen,” Hikari said, then stumbled and attempted to regroup, “I wanted you to know first. But I should, the others, I need to tell them.” Hikari walked to the door, where she paused and looked up at Yamato as if she wanted to say something. In the end, though, she just kept walking, eyes on the ground, posture the picture of defeat.

Yamato hesitated a minute, then closed the door behind her, leaving him and Taichi on the balcony alone. Taichi wasn’t looking at him, was still slumped over the railing and staring at his hands. Yamato twitched, half tempted to pull out his phone and call Sora. She was better at this than he was, could calm Taichi down and help refocus him. Yamato’s comfort was meant for Taichi’s self-doubt, his hesitation, things that didn’t involve Taichi on the edge of a panic attack. They still communicated best by fighting, after all, which wasn’t great for things that felt this fragile.

But Sora wasn’t here, would take forever to get here, and Yamato couldn’t just ignore Taichi all that time. So he walked over until he was leaning on the railing beside Taichi and pressed one hand to his back. “Taichi, you need to calm down,” he said, voice soft.

“There… there’s a mistake,” Taichi said, almost desperate. His voice was stripped raw in a way that made Yamato’s chest ache.

“She wouldn’t have told you if she wasn’t absolutely sure,” Yamato said, slow and careful, and watched Taichi’s eyes screw closed as if he was trying to block out the world.

“No, no, this can’t…” Taichi shook his head.

“Taichi, breathe, please,” he said urgently, a little afraid at how Taichi’s breaths were gasping out. Taichi obeyed as best he could, probably because Yamato had actually said please.

After a minute of silence, color slowly filling back into his face, Taichi said, “I practically raised him. At least as much as I have Hikari, or Takeru-kun. I can’t, I don’t believe this.”

“Taichi.”

“You’ve met him. He’s a good kid,” Taichi said, looking over at him. Any other day those words would be fierce. Now, Taichi hinged on desperate, looking for validation, agreement. Yamato stared back, heart sinking, and wished he could give it.

“I can count the number of times I’ve met him on one hand,” Yamato said slowly, unwillingly, not wanting to shatter the fragile look on Taichi’s face. “Takeru knows him better than I do by now.”

“But, he wouldn’t.” Taichi looked back down at the railing. “He’s a good kid,” he said, desperation cutting a hard edge through his voice.

“Taichi,” Yamato said, pressing close, trying to put as much weight in his voice as he could, “This isn’t your fault.”

Taichi’s laugh was a quiet, stuttering thing. “I watched him grow up. I taught him everything I could. Hikari jokes that he’s like my protege. If he’s, if he’s doing this, how is it not my fault? How, how did I mess him up that badly?”

“You can’t make decisions for other people Taichi,” Yamato said. He wanted, sudden and fierce, to find Motomiya and wrap his hands around the boy’s throat. He’d never had any problems with him before, those handful of times they’d interacted, and Takeru had only good things to say about him, but right now? Right now, staring at the defeat wrapped around Taichi, Yamato would gladly strangle Motomiya himself. “Whatever Motomiya’s done, it’s on him. Not you.”

A thin, tiny smile crept up Taichi’s lips and, despite the fact that Taichi still looked like he was in pain, Yamato felt his heart soar in relief. After another minute, Taichi looked up and some of that usual determination refilled his face. “Something happened. To cause this. He wouldn’t have… no one just changes like that for no reason. I’m going to find out what.”


	6. One Bastard or Another

Hikari had asked him that morning how he felt. Taichi hadn’t answered. There weren’t words for how he felt. Taichi wasn’t sure he’d been able to untangle the mess in his chest even if there were.

All Taichi had straight in his head was the driving need to talk with Daisuke.

He knew the route Daisuke took home from school, knew where to wait for him and pretend his anxiety was just impatience. After a few minutes, students in several different high school uniforms began to meander home in groups; not long after, Taichi pinpointed Daisuke walking at the back of the group, typing away at his phone without much thought to his surroundings. There was a gym bag thrown over one of his shoulders, even though he was supposed to still be banned from club activities.

“Motomiya,” he shouted, marching towards him.

Several of the other students glanced their way briefly before quickening their steps and hurrying on. Daisuke glanced up at him quickly, eyes raking him over with an expression that was equal parts irritated and utterly bored. Daisuke sighed, shoving his phone into his pocket, watching Taichi stalk towards him. Daisuke didn’t seem at all bothered by how Taichi was glaring at him.

“Is it true?” Taichi demanded, before Daisuke could even say hello, “You being the Kaiser, is it true?”

Amusement sparked deep in Daisuke’s eyes, followed by an odd, twisted smile. “You know, your face says if I say yes, I’m going to get punched.”

Taichi faltered, unsettled by the blaseness Daisuke spoke with. He tried to hold on to the energy of his anger, though it drained slowly away despite him. Daisuke hadn’t said yes, but he might as well have. And it wasn’t like Taichi had doubted Hikari, not really, but part of him was still unable to accept the idea of it. Was screaming denials in the back of Taichi’s head. That part of him had pictured a wholly different reaction, with such a strong conviction Taichi had almost seen the confusion Daisuke should have had, the stuttering denials born of Daisuke having no idea what he was talking about.

As it was, Taichi could do little more than stare for a long moment, heart slowly sinking to the ground. He took a deep breath, chest aching in a way he couldn’t explain, and tried to say in as even a voice as he could, “Do you have any idea what you’re doing?”

It came out a little more hollow than he wanted.

Daisuke rolled his eyes. “Well, Taichi, I’m not stupid. I like to think I recognize when I’m fighting a war.”

“What about the people you’re hurting? The digimon? Hikari? How could you do this to them?”

“Your team has had its chances to surrender,” Daisuke said, “And I really don’t care about the digimon.”

“Don’t care,” Taichi repeated, a numb echo. Taichi struggled with how calm Daisuke was, felt like he was going to gag on the seeming overwhelming apathy Daisuke was riding on. The total lack of shame, for what he was doing, for the pain he’d caused, even for getting caught. “Don’t care? You’re enslaving them, and you don’t care?”

Daisuke shrugged again, still without a hint of guilt. A dark look filled the spaces where guilt should be, feral and furious and terrifying in a way Taichi wasn’t used to being on the wrong end of. “The truth is, Taichi,” Daisuke said, low and venomous, “I hate the Digital World. I would watch it burn if I could.”

There was a pause, then Taichi watched all that violent fury fold up behind Daisuke’s eyes. Taichi shivered a little, utterly unsettled; he’d always considered Daisuke’s anger to be a passing thing, brutal in its intensity then gone quickly. Now he wondered if that hadn’t been a lie as well, if Daisuke hadn’t spent years deliberating softening himself, tucking away the anger where Taichi couldn’t see; tucked right next to his apathy, his cruelty, layered it all over with exhaustion after Ichijouji’s disappearance so people wouldn’t look to deep. Daisuke smiled, a tiny little thing, almost tired in a way. Daisuke said, shrugging, “But, well, things to do. Promises to keep. So here we are.”

Taichi stared at him, stomach swimming, head spinning with every part of Daisuke he’d never seen before. Finally, Taichi asked, in a quiet voice that wanted to hide in his throat, “What happened to you?”

Daisuke didn’t answer immediately, watched him with eyes that always seemed to see too much. Taichi shivered, unable to help the reaction. That look had always unsettled him; he prefered when Daisuke at least pretended he couldn’t discover someone’s weak spots with a single conversation. And now Taichi knew the kind of malice that Daisuke had never given a hint to; Taichi knew exactly the kind of damage Daisuke could do, was willing to do, with knowledge of those weak spots. Taichi wished he could see even half as much of Daisuke as Daisuke could see of everyone else.

“Oh Taichi,” Daisuke said finally in a voice soft and sympathetic, “The Digital World happened.”

It took a second for that to sink in, then some of his anger rekindled. He held up a finger, struggled to find words past the anger and grief. “No, no, do not. After everything you’ve done to them, do not put this on them.”

“For all you’re one of the oldest Chosen, you know nothing about that world, do you?” Daisuke asked.

“Stop,” Taichi hissed sharply, shaking his head, “Stop. Everything you’re doing and you’re trying to put it on them? No, I- I’m going to punch you if you don’t shut up.”

“Careful now, Taichi,” Daisuke said, “If we start throwing punches, a lot of innocent people are going to get hurt.” His eyes glanced around almost pointedly, looking at the people still walking around them, oblivious to their argument. Before Taichi could say something, there was a rustle from Daisuke’s gym bag; Taichi looked down at it and watched a small blue head pop out of the bag, red eyes big and mischievous. While Taichi stared, Daisuke settled a gentle hand on the baby digimon’s head. “Chibimon, I told you about Taichi, right?”

“Hi,” the little digimon said.

Taichi gulped down the sharp feeling of dread. He looked back up at Daisuke. “You wouldn’t.” Daisuke shrugged, looking so wholly unconcerned. Taichi thought he was going to be sick; he stepped away, thoughts whirling. “I always thought of you as a friend.”

“So do I,” Daisuke said immediately. He looked nothing more than confused, brows furrowing. “Why does that have to change?”

Taichi looked at the boy in front of him and could only shake his head. “I don’t know you,” he gasped out, horror layered thick in every syllable.

There was a pause, then Daisuke’s face shuttered. “Goodbye Taichi,” he said, voice cold in a way Taichi had never heard before, even when Daisuke wore the mask of the Kaiser. Taichi watched him for another minute, but Daisuke made no move to leave, and just watched him steadily back.

Finally Taichi, lungs tightening to almost pain, turned and walked away himself without a word.

How had Taichi missed this from Daisuke? This casual brutality, the utterly uncaring viciousness that came with being the Kaiser; the callousness he showed to Hikari and any digimon that wasn’t his own. When had Daisuke changed from that sweet-hearted little boy to… to this monster? How long had Taichi just made excuses for all those changes, refused to look at them straight on?

What was it Strabimon had said? That the Kaiser had been active for around three years?

Taichi stopped, practically tripping over his own feet; he had to brace his hands on his knees and force himself to breathe despite his throat trying to close. His brain kept spinning around the same thought, caught in a cycle he couldn’t shake. Denial swept through him, the same overwhelming tidal wave that had swallowed him when Hikari had told him the truth about Daisuke.

Ichijouji Ken had disappeared around three years ago.

_No, no, no_ , Taichi thought, shaking his head in denial, shaking all over.

Taichi wanted to be able to say the first, obvious conclusion was wrong, wanted to say it with a certainty he’d long since lost. Wanted to deny it with every fiber of his being. Daisuke _loved_ Ken. He would never lay a finger on Ichijouji. He would die first. At least, that’s what Taichi wished he could say.

But really, he had no idea what Daisuke was capable of.

*****

Yamato stalked through the streets, keeping an eye out for Taichi as he tried not to bubble over with worry; if he kept telling himself he was getting tired of worrying himself sick over Taichi, maybe the worry would ease into irritation. He would much prefer irritation; he hadn’t missed fretting over whatever trouble Taichi had run headlong into during the years of peace.

As he marched along, searching the empty streets, he heard the unmistakable high-pitched voice of a Baby digimon. He looked up and found Motomiya wandering slowly down the street, most of his attention on his phone. There was a little blue digimon sitting on his gym bag. Fury made it momentarily hard to breathe; he stalked forward a few steps before he’d even thought about it.

Then the reality of the situation set in. Motomiya had his digimon; if Yamato started a fight, he would definitely lose. Cursing to himself, Yamato changed direction and ducked down a side street. Motomiya kept walking, apparently without having noticed him.

“Ne, Daisuke,” Yamato heard the little digimon ask, followed by an inquisitive sound from Motomiya. “We wouldn’t really have hurt those students, right?”

His answer was a laugh, bright and cheerful. Daisuke walked by the side street, not looking his way at all; Yamato watched him settle a hand gently on his partner’s head, eyes still on his phone, before he disappeared out of sight. “Of course not, Chibimon. Worse came to worse, we would have just flown away. Still, there’s no way Taichi would have called that bluff. He’s not that kind of person.”

A wave of cold fear swept through Yamato at the mention of Taichi; goddamnit, what had that idiot gotten himself into this time? If Taichi was hurt, Yamato was going to start with punching him and end with chasing Motomiya down and choking him, digimon or not.

Motomiya, unaware of the minor panic attack he’d caused, continued to talk to his partner in a soft, thoughtful voice, “Unlike _some people_ , I like this world. It would be a shame if things got too complicated here for me to stay.”

Yamato waited a few more seconds until Motomiya was well ahead, then stepped out onto the main street. Motomiya continued walking without ever noticing him. Yamato watched him for a second, then turned and took off the way Motomiya had come from, looking for Taichi. He eventually found Taichi several blocks away, walking slowly, eyes focused on the ground. Yamato ran up to him, breathing deeply.

Taichi glanced over at him and raised one hand in a weak wave. “Hey,” he greeted, voice quiet.

Once he’d caught his breath, Yamato scowled over at Taichi, resisting the urge to smack him. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere. I thought you’d done something stupid.”

Taichi just shrugged. “I talked to Daisuke.”

“Of course you did.”

“He’s not,” Taichi stopped, stopped talking, stopped walking. Yamato paused as well, watching as Taichi bit at his lip. “I don’t, I don’t know.”

Yamato sighed, wished again he was better at comforting Taichi than he was. After a second, he told Taichi what he’d overheard from Motomiya and his partner. Taichi’s expression turned briefly thoughtful as he turned it over in his mind. Finally he sighed, a long, heavy sound. “So,” Taichi said, voice quiet and heartsick, “He’s not a complete bastard. Just a manipulative one.”

“He’s knows too much about us,” Yamato said, “How we think. What we’re willing to do. What we’re not.”

“I know.” Taichi frowned down at the ground. “I don’t know how to get through to him.”

“You gonna stop trying?”

Taichi looked over at him; his expression shifted, some of the darkness leaving. His eyes burned suddenly with determination. “No.”

*****

Hikari watched Koushiro work, pretending she couldn’t see Taichi pacing and towering over her team, nerves channeled into irritation; pretended she couldn’t see Miyako’s leg bouncing, her arms squeezing Poromon perhaps too tight. Data analysis was more interesting than she’d thought; maybe she should look into it more.

“Koushiro,” Taichi said, voice annoyed and impatient.

“Taichi,” Koushiro said right back, not looking up from his computer, “Do you want to find him, or do you want to stand in the desert doing nothing for a few hours?” Taichi sighed in response and resumed his pacing.

“Do you think it will work?” Iori asked. He and Miyako were watching Koushiro work intensely, curiosity clear on their faces. “I mean, we’ve never tried tracking the Kaiser before.”

Koushiro looked up at Iori and grinned. “I wouldn’t say we’re tracking him, but I think I can predict where Motomiya will be.”

“He’s not exactly predictable,” Takeru said.

“He’s snuck up on us lots of times,” Upamon agreed.

“Actually it's rather the other way around,” Koushiro said. He turned back to his computer as he talked, continuing his work. “We’ve been the ones attacking erratically. Sometimes Motomiya just happens to be in the area. Luck really.”

Hikari shivered, remembering Daisuke claiming his outstanding luck. Now knowing who he was, and having years of experience witnessing just that, she knew he wasn’t understating it.

Unaware of her thoughts, Koushiro continued, “Motomiya’s movements are much more organized if you’re paying attention. He has an Empire to run after all. I mentioned before that we were having our own partners keep an ear out for useful rumors, mostly about the Digimentals. Well, Tentomon’s also been sending me reports about the Empire’s movements. Nothing major, of course, and nothing outside his newest territories. Everywhere else is locked down solid, no way to get information out. But the newer territories are much less stable, mostly because of your efforts, so we’ve been hearing a lot of things. And Motomiya’s movements have a pattern. A few weird outliers, but nothing I can’t work around. If you’re all intent on tracking him down, I can tell you where he should be. For a given margin of error.”

“I don’t like it,” Miyako said, “There’s a reason we avoid him when we can.”

Hikari didn’t say anything; she didn’t want to admit to her own doubts, her own concerns, about charging into Empire territory and searching for XV-mon, who was always a dangerous opponent. But it was Taichi’s idea and she could see how much he needed this, needed to see Daisuke in the Kaiser’s armour, try to convince him to stop at least once. So she said nothing. Easier, kinder, to keep her concerns about XV-mon’s strength to herself.

“Why do we have to go to the Digital World?” Tokomon asked, “Why not just talk to him here?”

“He’s too careful,” Plotmon said, “He takes Chibimon with him everywhere now and he won’t stay to listen. It’s going to end in a fight either way.”

“You think it’ll come to a fight?” Iori asked.

“Maybe,” Plotmon said, “If he won’t listen, we’ll have to make him.”

Taichi flinched a little, steps faltering in his pacing briefly before he straightened. Everyone was nice enough to ignore it.

“Because fighting him has worked out so well for us in the past,” Miyako muttered. Hikari winced a little; apparently knowing who the Kaiser was hadn’t eased Miyako’s bitterness over the initial attacks against her and Holsmon. Not that Hikari could blame her; she herself remembered all too vividly the terror that came with getting thrown when you were fifty feet in the air.

“Don’t worry,” Takeru said, “We should have the advantage.”

Hikari looked over at him. “What makes you think that?”

“His hand. He should still be healing. We’ll have the advantage like that, same as last time. And, of course, that’s not accounting for any injuries he may have gotten from the fall.”

“He didn’t look all that hurt to me,” Plotmon said.

“But if he was hurt, he’d make sure not to show us, wouldn’t he?” Iori asked.

“That’s right,” Hikari agreed, “Keep an eye out for any oddities in his fighting style.” The group nodded assent, then went quiet. Koushiro’s typing was filled the room.

After a minute of watching Koushiro work, Taichi sighed explosively and sat down. He slumped all the way down in the seat, practically falling out of it; he looked over at her, eyes intense as he examined her. She struggled not to shift uncomfortably under the attention. “What is it?” Taichi asked.

“Hm?”

“You’ve been thinking pretty hard about something. What is it?”

Hikari hesitated, unsure how to put her suspicions into words, especially since it was nothing more than a gut feeling. But everyone’s attention was on her now, so she haltingly admitted, “It’s just a theory. But, you said Daisuke claimed he hated the Digital World.”

Taichi nodded.

Next to her, Miyako sputtered, “He hates it but he’s conquering it anyway?”

“That’s what I thought,” Hikari agreed, “I think that’s a distraction. Not a lie, maybe, but I think he’s using it to hide something else.”

“What makes you think that?” Iori asked. Not doubtful; Iori was never doubtful, always gave her words proper time and thought. She would one day have to find words to explain to him how thankful she was for that, even if she’d originally thought that kind of intensity was intimidating.

“When he took me, at the cliffs, the way he acted,” quiet, almost tired; it was, perhaps, the most honest she’d ever seen him, mask or no, “I believe that, what he said that day. It’s the only thing I do believe from him. He said his reasons were complicated. I can’t help but feel like he gave us only a sliver of the whole truth so we wouldn’t look further.”

There was a moment of silence while they thought that over.

“Well, if he’s hiding something, I want to know what,” Miyako said fiercely.

“Agreed,” Takeru said.

“Perhaps one thing at a time,” Koushiro said, looking up at them, “I think I know where he’s going to be.”

*****

Koushiro led them to the desert. Dunes rose all around them but other than that there wasn’t much cover, which made Hikari nervous; even with Agumon and Tentomon there, Taichi and Koushiro would be all but defenseless. “If I’m right,” Koushiro said, eying the tablet he’d brought with him in place of his laptop, “He should be flying north soon. There’s a huge factory that way; he checks in with it often.”

“I feel like Yamato should be here,” Takeru said, leaning against Pegasmon’s side. His arms were crossed over his chest, eyes on the sky. “I mean, if you’re going to be here, Taichi-san.”

“There’s nothing he can do. With Gabumon unable to digivolve, he’d just be a target,” Taichi said, like the fact that Yamato and Sora didn’t even know they were here had nothing to do with Taichi’s wish to keep them as far from Daisuke as possible.

Takeru turned just enough to give Taichi a derisive look. He pointedly flicked his eyes down at Agumon, who stood loyally at his side. “And I suppose you’re thinking the same thing about Sora-san?”

Taichi turned to look at Takeru as well and one eyebrow slowly raised. “Stop looking at me like that. You look like Yamato and it's creepy.”

Takeru looked away with a smile.

Hikari walked over to Koushiro and asked in a quiet voice, “Has he been talking to you?”

Koushiro shook his head. “No. I don’t think he’s talking to any of the others either.”

Hikari pressed her lips together, a sharp feeling of uselessness creeping in. Before she could keep talking, or even think about how to help Taichi, a long shadow fell over her. Koushiro started hugely, face paling; Hikari took a deep breath, heart already beating faster, and walked forward until she stood before her team. Taichi walked over to her side.

XV-mon landed with a great burst of wind, sand blowing everywhere. Daisuke jumped off his shoulders easily, boots making a solid _thump_ as he landed. He was wearing his hood and mask, but his gauntlets were still gone.

“Take that thing off,” Taichi said, glaring across at Daisuke, “You look ridiculous.”

Daisuke laughed, as unconcerned as always, and removed hood and mask in one movement. Hikari knew, was expecting it, but she still flinched a little when Daisuke’s face was revealed. Next to her, Taichi went very still. Daisuke let the mask drop into the sand and ran one hand through his hair. “Yo, Taichi,” Daisuke said, “Fancy seeing you here.”

“We came to talk,” Taichi said. He crossed his arms over his chest; Hikari thought he was trying to look stern and intimidating, but really, it came across as more defensive than anything.

There was a flicker in Daisuke’s eyes that made her think he thought the same of Taichi’s posture. “Talk? We could’ve talked at home. No need to come all the way out here.”

“Daisuke, please,” Taichi said. Hikari winced a little at hearing him beg, but also at how Daisuke simply stared back without reaction. “Stop for a minute and think about what you’re doing. This is murder, Daisuke.”

“This is war,” Daisuke said right back.

“A war you started,” Iori said.

Daisuke shrugged. “In all fairness, I did ask nicely first.”

“What, asked to let themselves be conquered?” Takeru snapped.

“Something like that,” Daisuke said and Hikari narrowed her eyes. It was flippant, of course, but the way Daisuke ducked around answering directly made her think he was trying to distract them again. A shiver of truth to pull them off course.

“Daisuke,” Taichi said, either missing or ignoring the undercurrent Hikari had heard, “Please, the digimon don’t mean any harm.”

Daisuke scoffed and a hint of vicious anger appeared in his eyes. “Of course they don’t. That’s what they have you all for.”

“Daisuke, just, just stop,” Hikari said, “Please, I don’t want to fight you. Let’s just stop, let's go home. We can fix this.”

Daisuke didn’t say anything in response, not immediately, just stared back at her. The silence wasn’t as encouraging as she thought it should be; the expression he wore examined her head to toe, seemed to peer right through her, and was not in any way hope inspiring. “Sorry, princess. You’re years too late to fix anything.”

Takeru asked, voce quiet and sad, “There’s nothing we can say to get you to stop, is there?”

“No more than I could say something to stop you,” Daisuke agreed, “I made my choice a long time ago.”

“It’s going to become a fight,” Takeru warned.

A wide smile split Daisuke’s face. He turned enough to share a look with XV-mon, half-amused, half-excited. “It’s always does.”

Hikari glanced sharply behind at her team and nodded. The response was immediate; her team leapt to action and threw themselves onto their partners. Then they were in the air, an, easy, practiced movement that had Taichi blinking up at them in shock. Hikari looked down at Taichi and Koushiro, who hadn’t moved at all. “Stay down, don’t grab his attention,” she shouted, because there really wasn’t anywhere for them to hide. “Agumon, Tentomon, you look after them.”

The two digimon agreed, though she didn’t take the time to acknowledge it. Daisuke had moved only an instant after her team and she had XV-mon charging her. Nefertimon dodged away, swinging around to keep him in eyesight, and the fight began.

Takeru had been right; as the battle progressed, she noticed XV-mon was reacting with the same slowness as he had in their previous fight. Every move XV-mon made seemed to take Daisuke into account; not just his added weight, but also his ability to handle whiplash, to stay seated. XV-mon was taking obvious care not to risk injury to Daisuke; she couldn’t help but think of his reaction time the one time he hadn’t had to keep Daisuke in mind and winced a little to herself. Wondered why the two bothered with keeping Daisuke astride when it slowed XV-mon down. Then she considered Daisuke on the ground, as wide open to attacks as Taichi currently was, and realized Daisuke was probably safest where he was.

“ _Gold Rush!”_ Digmon attacked. XV-mon dodged away; Hikari watched how Daisuke leaned into the movement, seamless, without thought for it.

Daisuke had as much awareness of XV-mon as XV-mon did of him. They seemed to communicate without words, Daisuke able to easily predict what XV-mon would do and adjust for it. During the last fight, Daisuke had jumped nearly the second XV-mon had decided to take the hit, putting himself at risk rather than allow XV-mon to be hurt.

For someone who claimed to hate the Digital World, Daisuke had a remarkable bond with his partner.

Nefertimon and Pegasmon swept in from behind XV-mon, attempting to catch him while he was facing Holsmon and Digmon. “ _Sanctuary Bind!_ ”

XV-mon snapped around to face them; he flew over the attempt, though it was closer than Hikari was used to seeing. XV-mon focused on them and the mark on his chest began to glow. “ _X-Laser!_ ”

Hikari squinted against the light, almost blind with it; very rarely was the times she faced that attack head on. Nefertimon and Pegasmon dodged while she was shaking it off and when the spots cleared, it was to see XV-mon charging at them. She braced, though Nefertimon tried to move out of the way; XV-mon still managed to clip a wing.

They spun, fell a few feet, and when they straightened, XV-mon was still right on top of her. She stopped breathing as XV-mon’s hands clenched down on Nefertimon’s wings, the light on his chest glowing again.

“ _Baby Flame!_ ”

The little fireball exploded harmlessly against XV-mon’s shoulder. All the same, he stopped his attack, hands releasing Nefertimon, expression a mixture of shock and confusion. XV-mon and Daisuke turned as one to look down at Agumon; Hikari didn’t think she’d ever seen two beings looked quite so befuddled before. “What are you doing?” XV-mon asked, seemingly stunned by the little digimon that was attempting to attack him.

“Stay away from her,” Agumon ordered, puffing up his chest as if to attack again.

Before he got the chance, Digmon swept in again. “ _Gold Rush!_ ” The attack scrapped across XV-mon’s leg as he tried to move, shaken from his surprise a few seconds too slow. XV-mon winced as he continued to move away; the wound looked deep, more serious than she’d ever seen against him.

XV-mon moved to counter attack. Still, as they traded attacks, Hikari noticed XV-mon was favoring the injury as much as he could in the air; it was affecting the power behind most of his attacks. It was easier to get close suddenly, to move out of the way of whatever attacks came their way. Their attacks continued to wear against XV-mon; they never got a full, direct hit in, he was too good for that, but the attacks bit at his wings and sides until he was covered in scratches and panting heavily.

Daisuke looked more worried than she’d ever seen him, almost all of his attention on XV-mon. That was honest concern. _What makes him so special?_ Hikari thought, _That he gets all your worry and the rest of the world burns? Just because he’s yours?_

Daisuke leaned into him, said something in a quiet voice. XV-mon nodded in response, head raising to look around at them all; he seemed to gather himself, wings straightening out. “ _X-Laser!_ ”

Nefertimon dropped beneath the attack; Hikari winced a little as it grazed just over her head. When she refocused on XV-mon, he was flying upwards, almost a straight line. _He’s running_ , she realized. She looked around wildly, locked eyes with Takeru. She didn’t even need to say anything; both of them immediately flew after him. “ _Sanctuary Bind!_ ”

The rope wrapped tight around one leg, the first time they’d ever managed to actually catch him, and there wasn’t a moment of hesitation before they yanked down. XV-mon yelped out, surprise, pain, wings folding as he hunched in and plummeted. Halfway to the ground he attempted to right himself. Then Holsmon slammed into his front full on, driving him downwards.

XV-mon caught himself enough so he slowed before he hit the ground; Daisuke was thrown off by the impact, though much gentler than it would have been otherwise. Hikari watched Daisuke slowly brace himself on his elbows, looking dazed, as Miyako crowed, “Haha! Payback, asshole!”

XV-mon struggled to his feet, shaking off his lingering stun. His eyes flickered to Daisuke, still on the ground, then up to them, anger sparking bright and strong. Hikari shivered, unsure what to do with him angry; he was never angry, was oddly jovial even in battle, she didn’t know what to expect from him.

His wings came up again, body stiffening. Digmon, maybe having the same concerns she did, didn’t wait for him to get off the ground before aiming at him. “ _Gold Rush_!”

XV-mon’s head snapped down towards Daisuke struggling to stand, even as the attack closed in, too close for XV-mon to dodge without risking him; she could see again the quick calculation he made right before he flew up and threw himself in the way off the attack. It hit him square on.

Daisuke looked up, eyes huge, as XV-mon dedigivolved and began to fall. Immediately Daisuke raced a few steps forward, caught V-mon easily; the force knocked him on his ass, though he didn’t seem to care. He simply sat there with V-mon clutched to his chest. There was a second’s pause, then Daisuke looked up at them, every inch of him a study in fury.

Nefertimon landed at her direction, the rest of the following. Hikari hopped off, approached the two warily. Despite that V-mon laid still in Daisuke’s arms, she could see he was still conscious; beat up and breathing deeply, but conscious and aware. She doubted he still had the strength to be a threat, but she also didn’t doubt he’d do whatever he could to keep protecting Daisuke. And Daisuke, she didn’t like the look on his face; hot with fury and promising retribution.

As they approached, Daisuke shifted, whole body trying to curve around V-mon.

“Daisuke,” Hikari said as she walked closer, a quiet mumble.

Daisuke very gently placed V-mon on the ground next to him, climbed slowly to his feet, almost like he was in pain. He stepped in front of V-mon as if to protect him from further harm. V-mon attempted to weakly push himself up, eyes on Daisuke, huge and worried.

“Wait!” Koushiro shouted behind them.

Hikari jerked, turned a little to look at him as he ran up. Taichi was only a few steps behind and he stopped in front of Daisuke, staring at him intensely, utterly silent. Koushiro took a deep breath as he came abreast of them, lifted up the tablet he’d brought with him. “There’s a signal,” he said, “He’s been emitting some sort of broadcast for a few minutes now.”

Hikari looked back at Daisuke wildly. A smirk spread across his face slowly, eyebrows lifting briefly. He pulled a thin black square out of his pocket, held it up for them to see the small button on the middle. “Two years I’ve been doing this. I know when a battle’s not going my way. I know a few tricks.”

“What is that?” Iori demanded.

“Panic button,” Daisuke said. He huffed out a laugh, still smirking. “Sends a signal to the base, to every tower in range. Every Ringed digimon in ten kilometers is headed this way.”

“What’s in range?” Miyako asked quietly, eyes flickering about.

“A lot,” Hikari answered, already calculating it. One mine, another factory, who knew how many patrols on standby for emergencies. No way to tell how long ago he’d activated it; how close reinforcements had managed to get. Daisuke stood prepared to fight back, she knew, to buy as many small seconds as he could. “We need to go.”

At her words, her team immediately began to climb back onto their partners. Miyako helped Koushiro up, Tentomon settling in behind them. Hikari hopped back onto Nefertimon easily, then turned to look at her brother.

Taichi didn’t move, continued to stare back at Daisuke. “Taichi!” Hikari shouted, attempting to grab his attention.

“He’s bluffing,” Taichi said after a second, not looking away. “There’s nothing around, that’s why we chose here. Whatever reinforcements are coming, they’re a long way off. He can’t fight us all and protect V-mon at the same time.”

“Taichi,” Hikari said again.

“We can drag him home, make him listen.”

Hikari looked around, but with the dunes it was impossible to tell what was coming by land. Fliers they would be able to see, but nothing approaching on foot.

Daisuke, for his part, looked back at V-mon, who had struggled to his feet and was attempting to look strong. He cocked one eyebrow at his partner; V-mon nodded back, drawing himself up as much as he could. Whatever message they shared communicated, Daisuke looked back at Taichi and she did not like the smile on his face. “It’s true that I can’t fight you and protect him at the same time. But I don’t need to protect him.”

“No way can he digivolve to XV-mon again already.”

“Also true,” Daisuke said and that terrible smile was going nowhere, “But who said anything about XV-mon? I mean, come on, Taichi, we always were so alike.” He reached into his pocket again, this time drew out a D-terminal. _Oh hell_ , she thought, knew immediately what he was doing. She dug her knees into Nefertimon’s sides and she immediately surged forward. Taichi was still watching Daisuke, horror dawning on him in time with realization.

Still holding Taichi’s gaze, still smirking, Daisuke said in a strong, clear voice, “Digimental Up.”

As V-mon was wrapped up in light, Hikari grabbed Taichi by the back of his shirt and yanked him backwards. He stumbled into Nefertimon’s side then tried to climb aboard without taking his eyes off Daisuke. Pegasmon swooped in next to her, barely even touching the ground as Takeru looped his arms around Agumon and yanked him up.

They’d just taken off again when the light cleared. Fladramon stepped out from behind Daisuke, stood in front and looked up at him. Hikari stared down at the Crest emblazoned on his chest with a slow, sinking sensation. Taichi was too quiet behind her, arms limp around her waist.

“What Crest is that?” Miyako asked quietly.

“Courage,” Hikari answered.

On the ground, Daisuke shrugged, amused except for where she could see rage still burning behind his eyes.

Fladramon stared up at them; he had no means of flight, putting him at the disadvantage technically, but that wasn’t the point. The point was, they wouldn’t have the time to fight him and drag them to a Gate before reinforcements showed up. Hikari looked around, saw a dark shape in the sky, approaching fast.

Daisuke seemed to see it too, eyes flickering about, smirk widening. “Well, if it is a bluff, you going to risk calling it, princess?”

“Run,” Hikari ordered without hesitation. Her team immediately obeyed, wheeling about and flying back towards the gate.

As they flew away, Hikari couldn’t help but turn to look behind her. Daisuke and Fladramon were shrinking from sight, but she was close enough to see Fladramon stumble a step, then collapse to one knee. Daisuke rushed to his side, one hand on his shoulder, just as his partner was again swallowed in the light of dedigivolution. V-mon pitched forward into the sand, unconscious.

Part of her wanted to turn back, maybe to help, maybe to do as Taichi said and drag him home, but reinforcements were already appearing in the distance. There was no time and she had to protect her team.

Hikari turned away from the two, eyes scanning ground and sky. That shape against the sky was closer, though still headed for Daisuke and not them. It was looked like an Adult; an insect digimon, huge and green against the afternoon sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I seem to have accidentally given Koushiro a spy network. ...Oops?


	7. Boy in the Shadows

The trip back through the Gate was silent, full of everyone afraid to speak. Hikari didn’t like how quiet Taichi was behind her, how totally still; he barely leaned with Nefertimon’s flying, sat limb and unresponsive. Hikari continued looking around to see if they were followed but, aside from the single, initial insect digimon, no slaves appeared in pursuit. The further along they got without sight of Daisuke’s reinforcements, the further Hikari’s stomach fell.

The silence continued even after they appeared back in the human world, stumbling back into the Yagami’s apartment. They stood around, looking across at each other awkwardly. Taichi ignored the rest of them to collapse in the nearest chair, burying his face in his hand, sinking down deep. After a second, Koushiro copied him, sitting down on the couch and pulling out both phone and tablet.

“So,” Takeru said quietly, like he was afraid of breaking the hush that had fallen over the group. He looked up at them from beneath the fringe of his hair, uncomfortable looking. “That was… what it was.”

Hikari managed to drag her eyes off Taichi to give him an annoyed look. Takeru flinched a little.

“This makes it official, right?” Miyako asked hesitantly, “He’s a Chosen, like us.”

“Seems like,” Koushiro muttered. He was pretending not to watch Taichi; he was typing away on his phone but Hikari could see his eyes flickering up at Taichi occasionally. “And he has his Crest and Digi Armor.”

“The Crest of Courage,” Iori said, mostly to himself. His eyes flickered up towards Taichi, searching. “Whose Crest was that?”

Taichi sank further into his seat, shoulders rising to his ears defensively. Koushiro sighed and practically stabbed at his phone as he typed.

“Iori-kun,” Hikari said warningly.

Iori looked abashed. He nodded at her in understanding and didn’t push for an answer. Taichi ‘s reaction had probably been proof enough for his suspicions anyway. Hikari’s lips pressed thin as she looked over her team; everyone seemed afraid to say something, to look at Taichi sitting sullen between them. Hikari sat empty of platitudes or reassurances, unsure what to do with a betrayal made worse by the knowledge that Daisuke should have been one of them. “That’s enough for today,” she said, because she had nothing else to do with the silence, “Go home. We’ll think of something later.”

She’d barely finished before Taichi pushed himself up and walked out. There was a moment of silence, where they all watched Taichi’s back disappear out the front door.

“I texted Sora-san,” Koushiro said, holding up his phone, “She’ll track him down.”

Hikari let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

“It’s no problem. You all have enough to worry about right now.”

Hikari nodded, looking over at her team. She tried to smile encouragingly. “I’ll see you all later.”

Iori returned the sentiment, leaning down to pick up Upamon. “Goodbye,” he said. Hikari waved after them, wiggling her fingers at Upamon, causing him to giggle.

“Miyako-kun,” Koushiro called as he pulled up files on his tablet, “Could you come look at this for a minute?”

“Oh, sure,” Miyako agreed, stepping up next to him and bowing over his tablet. Koushiro pointed at the screen, causing Miyako’s eyes to narrow, and the two fell into frenzied technical talk Hikari couldn’t really keep up with.

Hikari’s attention diverted from the two by Takeru’s stepping up next to her. “Something wrong?” she asked.

“I’m going to go,” he said quietly, trying not to interrupt Koushiro and Miyako. Hikari didn’t think the extra effort was necessary; the two were already deep in their discussion, completely focused on their work. Hikari wasn’t sure anything was going to drag them away before they were well good and ready.

She nodded, aware her smile was thin and unconvincing. “Let me walk you out.”

Takeru paused at the door, looking back at her. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, eyes examining. “You know, it’s okay to have no idea what we’re doing next.”

“Is it?” she asked.

“Yes.” Takeru smiled, with more warmth and honesty than she was currently managing. “We’ll figure it out together. If you want to talk about it, I’m here.”

“So you keep saying,” she said, “I’ll see you in class.”

He nodded, though he seemed reluctant to leave. However, he seemed unable to find words for whatever was spinning in his head, so he eventually waved goodbye and started to walk away. From atop his head, Tokomon waved as well. “Bye bye Hikari,” Tokomon called.

“Bye bye,” she called, waving again.

When she returned to the living room, she found Koushiro backing up his tablet. “Going already?” she asked, unable to keep her surprise out of her voice, “I thought you’d be working for an hour at least.”

“Need more information first,” Koushiro said, slinging his bag over his shoulder. He smiled at her, eyes crinkling. “I’ll have to get back to all of you later. Take care of yourself okay?”

“Do my best,” Hikari assured. She walked him to the door as well and when she turned around, Miyako was right at her shoulder.

“So,” Miyako said, “I was thinking. How about we all head to my family’s store and drown our sorrows in sugar?”

“Oh, I don’t-”

“Come on,” Miyako urged, “Do you really want to stay here with just you and Plotmon?”

Hikari hesitated, looking around the empty apartment. Plotmon gazed up at her earnestly, head cocked, and nodded encouragingly. She looked back at Miyako, who was watching her with huge eyes. “Okay,” she agreed, “Lead the way.”

Miyako clapped in excitement and started trying to pull her out of the apartment. Hikari huffed out something like a laugh, barely managing to shove her shoes on. Plotmon skipped along in their wake as Miyako dragged her a few more feet before letting her walk side-by-side.

Hikari cleared her throat uncomfortably, searching for something to say. “So, what were you and Koushiro-san talking about?”

“Hm? Oh! Before we left for the Digital World, Koushiro-san was looking into Motomiya-kun’s movement patterns and he said there were oddities. Well, he thinks they’re not outliers but a totally separate pattern and I agree! Motomiya-kun is running two separate patterns of movement and the second one doesn’t match up with the Empire’s at all. We’ll need to investigate a bit further to figure out what he’s doing, but it's definitely worth looking into, right?”

“Yeah, definitely,” Hikari said, trying to look assuring, interested. But she couldn’t shake the fight from her head; Fladramon’s collapse, the insect digimon flying in, Daisuke holding her gaze for every second, furious and daring. _Taichi was right_ , Hikari thought, with that too familiar sinking sense of defeat. Daisuke had been bluffing. They could have won.

Fladramon had been on his last leg, only hanging on to support Daisuke through his bluff. If it had come to fight, he would have folded in the first volley. Would it have been that hard to drag them both back to the human world before the reinforcements had shown? Reinforcements that had, as far as she’d seen, been one digimon deep. Except, she’d gotten scared, let Daisuke manipulate her again.

So the war continued when she could have ended it. Now, the Empire would continue to expand; more villages destroyed, more digimon dead. When she could have prevented it.

 _I have to do better,_ she thought, _I will do better._ No more letting Daisuke manipulate her. She’d stop reacting, start thinking; she knew the kind of lies Daisuke was capable of. She had to keep that in mind when she gave out orders. She had to remember what the consequences were. Whatever deaths came from today, she’d just have to find a way to carry them. She’d find out how to live with it.

That terrible feeling of defeat eased away; there was no room for it as determination flooded through her, as steel wrapped around her spine. _Whatever you’re planning, I’m going to stop you. Whatever it takes. Whatever comes of it. I’m going to stop you_.

She wasn’t expecting Miyako’s shoulder to knock gently into hers. She jolted, looking over at her friend in confusion. Miyako grinned back at her, eyebrows raised in question. “Where, exactly, did I lose you?”

“Huh?”

Miyako laughed and reached out to press a finger to the skin between Hikari’s eyebrows. “You got that look again. Where right here gets all scrunched up.” Miyako demonstrated by scrunching up her own face in an exaggerated expression. “You get it when you worry too much.”

“You get it a lot,” Poromon added.

“I just think a lot, is all,” Hikari said, trying to brush off the worry.

“Uh huh.” Miyako sighed and stuffed her hands in her pockets, looking wholly unconvinced. “I’ve thought this for a while but, you’re the kind of person who keeps everything to yourself, aren’t you?”

Hikari had no option but to smile a little helplessly. “Sorry,” she said.

Miyako huffed in response. “I can’t read your mind. I need you to tell me things so I can help.”

“Sorry.”

“Stop saying that,” Miyako said, “I just want you to keep it in mind, okay?”

“Not going to ask what I was worrying about?”

“Well, if Takeru-kun can’t get it out of you, I’m not so sure of my chances.”

“I don’t know, you’re a lot more persistent than he is.”

“I am, aren’t I?” Miyako asked, grinning widely. “Well, I was going to ask. But then you got this look. It was a good look, so I’m not that concerned.” Miyako grabbed her hand, still smiling. “Now, heavy thoughts later. Come on.”

Miyako picked up into a jog and then Hikari was once again being dragged down the streets. Hikari huffed out a laugh and picked up her speed so she was running with Miyako, still holding her hand.

*****

Later that night, Hikari laid in bed with Plotmon curled up against her and thought. They had come so close. They had almost won with nothing more than a quick half-assed plan, a bit of anger, and a lot of luck. That they had failed was on her, but they had gotten so close. Why couldn’t they do it again?

A better plan, better circumstances, more forethought. How long until Daisuke ran out of new tricks; they already knew so many.

Hikari laid awake that night and never stopped thinking, ideas and plans spinning around her head.

*****

The weeks, and the fights, continued. Her team took down towers and freed slaves; for all their continued activities in the Digital World, Daisuke had made himself scarce. No matter how much of a nuisance her team made of themselves, they saw no sign of him. Apparently, Daisuke had learned his lesson and refused to fight them while he was still injured.

So the Chosen worked unopposed, aside from a few slaves. Even then, the resistance from Imperial forces was minimal. The Empire adjusted to their Kaiser’s absence; the Chosen destroyed their western encampments, then the Empire stretched northward instead. The Chosen pressed in in one direction, then the Empire expanded in the opposite. They gained no ground, not really, just traded it. Forced into a game of cat and mouse by Daisuke's careful planning. Until Daisuke rejoined the front lines, both sides were stuck in a stalemate.

The human world was a different story.

Daisuke’s presence was constant, unignorable in school, even if he wasn’t in their class. Daisuke didn’t try to attack them, and with Chibimon always hidden at his side, they couldn’t truly confront him. Despite not speaking more than a few words, Daisuke made clear he hadn’t forgotten the blows they’d struck against XV-mon. Daisuke’s eyes were always furious when she saw him, though that affable smile never faded.

Daisuke rejoined the soccer team, suspension over. Hikari took to watching his practice, not because she actually thought she’d learn anything useful to the war. She simply wanted him to know they were watching him. She knew it made the others anxious, her being near Daisuke without them; she kept Plotmon near but didn’t stop.

Daisuke, for his part, wasn’t bothered by her shadowing him. Or at least, he didn’t act like it. Of course, he was a very good actor; his soccer team probably didn’t realize they weren't friends anymore. Daisuke was friendly, welcoming, acted as if nothing had changed at all. It was unnerving, especially in those few moments where no one else was looking and the fury slid back into his eyes. It was the longest she’d ever seen him angry about a fight; he usually shook it off by the time she saw him again in the human world. But, of course, they had never hurt XV-mon to the point of collapse before.

She watched from the stands as Daisuke’s practice finished; as Daisuke packed up and said goodbye, with the same easy, warm affection Hikari had received before she’d learned he was the Kaiser. There wasn’t any difference she could see; she wondered how many people on the team would consider Daisuke a friend when none of them knew a thing about him.

The fact that she had been the same way hurt. It hurt, constantly, to where she could almost forget it most of the time, but it never really went away. It just hurt, in a quiet, soul-breaking sort of way, all the time.

Daisuke walked towards her, one hand raised in a jaunty wave. At her feet, Plotmon growled warningly. Hikari reached down and settled a gentle hand on Plotmon’s back, more to feel the vibration against her palm, know Plotmon had her back, then to stop her from growling. Daisuke wouldn’t lay a hand on her in the human world, but the support was comforting.

“Yo,” Daisuke greeted as he approached. 

Her throat burned suddenly; it might as well have been 3 weeks ago, her unaware of anything. She couldn’t see a difference; she didn’t think there was one. Which meant, “Were we ever really friends?” The words felt like glass as they crawled out of her throat.

Daisuke probably hadn’t been planning on stopping; he hadn’t slowed at all during his greeting, was halfway past her when she spoke. He paused at her words though, practically froze. Daisuke turned back to her, and a bit of his anger slipped into his eyes; his smile more closely resembled a snarl. Plotmon started growling again. “Of course we were,” he snapped, expression wavering between his friendly mask and something that was almost resentful. He continued in a calmer, more forceful, tone, “Of course we were. But you chose your path and I chose mine and here we are.”

Daisuke leaned in closer, eyes flickering between both of hers. His smile turned a little mean. “Should have surrendered if you weren’t willing to accept the consequences.”

She didn’t say anything immediately so Daisuke shifted his grip on his bag and began walking away. Hikari forced herself to take a deep breathe, jittery and unsettled; her eyes burned as much as her throat but she blinked it back. Then, not wholly settled but beginning to run on anger now, she turned and marched after him. Plotmon made a sound of protest but surrounded by humans who weren’t aware, she couldn’t argue.

“This is not on me!” Hikari shouted at Daisuke’s back once they were away from the field. “You’re the one who lied, not me!”

She wished she could mimic Iori’s conviction, his steadiness, as easily as she could his words.

Daisuke paused, shoulders heaving in a sigh, and looked back at her. He didn’t look overly impressed and Hikari had to plant her feet not to wilt a little under it. “Go home, princess.”

“No,” she said back, “You keep blaming others for your actions! Us, the Digital World. Just stop! What do you even have against the Digital World?”

Daisuke didn’t say anything immediately. His bag ruffled and Chibimon cautiously popped his head out. “Daisuke?” the baby digimon asked.

Daisuke reached down and smoothed his hand over Chibimon’s head, though he didn’t look away from her. She could see him calculating, the thoughts flickering lightning-quick behind his eyes. Then he leaned forward, eyes still too sharp and smile too cold, and said, “Ask Akiyama Ryo.”

Hikari blinked at him, tried to remember if she’d ever heard that name before. “I don’t- I don’t who that is.”

“Exactly,” Daisuke said, spreading his hands wide. “See ya, princess.”

*****

She looked into it. Of course she looked into it. She couldn’t say she totally believed him, that he wasn't just distracting her. But she had to look into it. Had to be sure.

She found almost nothing.

Hikari knocked on the door to her and Taichi’s bedroom, trying not to startle him. Taichi had been mercurial, mostly distant, occasionally angry, always sad. Daisuke having the Crest of Courage had hurt Taichi in a deep way, left him drained and drifting; she thought he felt defeated, and also a bit like a failure. She didn’t know what they could have done to prevent Daisuke from becoming the Kaiser, but she knew Taichi blamed himself for not finding it. That the boy who should have been his successor had fallen so low.

Taichi looked up at her, half bent over their desk, and smiled slightly, “Hey you,” he greeted.

Hikari smiled back and stepped further into the room. “Hey. I wanted to talk to you.” She glanced down at the desk and paused when she found it covered. “What are you looking at?”

“Some old pictures,” Taichi said. He shifted aside so she could step up next to him. “I was looking for that picture from last year’s fall temple visit. Mom wants it for a scrap book. Ended up tearing apart a few picture albums. Got distracted.”

Hikari looked over the many pictures Taichi had scattered about. There was Taichi in his chuugaku uniform, Sora balanced on his back; Taichi and Koushiro from the spring festival two years ago; one of Yamato’s concerts, Yamato still covered in sweat, bent over in laughter; so many from Taichi’s soccer teams over the years. Her smile slipped away when she found a picture of Daisuke, half-hidden beneath the mess. She slipped it out to get a better look.

Daisuke was so young in the picture, 12 at the oldest. He leaned against another boy she didn’t recognize, their arms wrapped around each other’s shoulders. They were dressed in different soccer uniforms, each bearing the captain’s mark, covered in sweat and dirt and grass stains. Daisuke was smiling wide enough to split his face, eyes practically squeezed shut from the force of it. The other boy was smiling, not quite as wide, but his eyes, almost purple in color, shone dark and warm and sweet.

“They’d just gotten into the finals against each other,” Taichi said, gently taking the picture from her. There was a softness to his expression that made her chest ache.

“Who’s the other boy?” Hikari asked, keeping her voice soft. Talking too loud to that expression felt wrong.

All the same, Taichi’s expression collapsed. Something terribly, infinitely sad flickered through his eyes as he stared down at the other boy. “Ichijouji Ken,” Taichi said eventually, so much weight behind the short words Hikari shuddered. Wondered if this was yet another boy she was supposed to know about. Taichi sighed and put the picture down, sliding it beneath one of Mimi at karaoke. “What was it you wanted?” Taichi asked, turning back to her with a false smile.

Hikari stared back at her brother for a long minute, biting her cheek, trying to figure out if she had any words that could ease that expression. When she continued to draw empty, she took a breathe and returned to her original purpose. “Have you ever heard of an Akiyama Ryo?” Hikari asked.

Taichi thought for a minute, then shook his head. “No, not at all. Why?”

“Daisuke-kun mentioned the name, but I’ve never heard it before.”

“Daisuke did?” Taichi repeated. He took another minute of obvious thought but ended up just shaking his head again. “Nothing.”

“It’s just, he said I should ask Akiyama why he was so angry at the Digital World,” Hikari said, watched Taichi’s expression twist, “I did look it up. An Akiyama Ryo did exist. He lived here in Odaiba, but that was years ago.”

“Moved?”

“No, he disappeared.”

Taichi paused, no froze, all the muscles along his back and shoulders going tight. There was a look in his eyes she didn’t understand. “When did that happen?”

“About ten years ago,” she said slowly, trying to parse the the tightness around his mouth, why his eyes looked a little wild.

All the tension fell from Taichi’s shoulders again. He let out a long, slow breath, eyes closed and seemed to settle before he said, “Daisuke would have only been six then.”

“Yeah, I know. Its weird.”

“He may be messing with you,” Taichi said.

“I have considered that,” Hikari agreed smiling a little.

“Well, I have nothing to offer. Sorry,” Taichi said. He shrugged, turning his focus back to the pictures and began trying to sort them.

“It’s fine,” Hikari said calmly. She sighed and admitted, “Think I’m going to have to put this one aside for now. Unless Daisuke-kun suddenly decides to share more information-” Taichi snorted in disbelief. “Yeah, I agree. Nothing more I can do though.”

Taichi made a hum of understanding and handed her a different picture. “Check this out.” It was Koushiro, bent over his computer, flanked by Taichi and Mimi, who had occupied themselves by stacking objects atop Koushiro’s head; Koushiro looked less than impressed. “It was a bet, kind of, to see how long he could stay still for. He might not have been in on it.”

Hikari laughed, let Taichi take the picture back just to replace it and continue telling stories.

*****

Daisuke rejoined the soccer team just in time for their first real game. Hikari attended. Truly, she was just being obstinate. He waved at her as the game began, smile blooming bright and terrible on his face. Hikari scowled back at him.

His hand was no longer bandaged, she noticed with a drop of dread. It wouldn’t be long until he rejoined the fight.

Just before the game started, Daisuke suddenly straightened, muscles going tense in a way that belonged on the battlefield, not the soccer field. Hikari stiffened as well, watching him carefully, watching every tiny twitch. Plotmon was at her feet, already responding to her tension. Hikari couldn’t see Chibimon, though she knew he had to be somewhere close; Daisuke went no where without him.

Daisuke’s eyes scanned the crowd, a slow perusal. After a few seconds though, he didn’t seem to see anything and returned his attention to his team. The tension never left.

Hikari gulped, tightening her grip around the edge of her seat. If it came to a real fight, she knew she couldn’t take him on her own.

Daisuke’s team took an early lead and never quite let it go. Despite Daisuke’s distraction, he still dominated with an ease that rankled. It was no longer as fun as it had been, seeing how frustrated the opposing team got. She’d been on that opposing team.

Daisuke continued to scan the crowd between plays, eyes flickering about in search, sliding over her like she wasn’t there.

Anxiety built slowly the more she watched him. Despite herself, she began scanning the crowd as well, looking for whatever had caught his attention. But in the end, she found nothing. The three of them spent the whole game on edge.

By the time the game ended, Hikari felt like she was going to come out of her skin. She watched as Daisuke once again examined the crowd, ignoring his team celebrating around him. She watched his eyes lock on something she couldn’t see; he relaxed completely, and his expression went soft and tender in a way she’d never seen. When Daisuke slipped away, she stood and followed.

“Hikari, wait,” Plotmon urged, quiet enough her voice would be hard to pinpoint to anyone who didn’t know. “Are you sure running after him is a good idea?”

“Hush, Plotmon,” she said, following Daisuke off the field and around to the locker rooms. She peaked around one corner, finding Daisuke easily.

He was strolling casually; she suspected if he hadn’t still been in uniform, he would have stuck his hands in his pockets. “What are you doing here?” Daisuke asked. She almost thought he was talking to her, except his voice was soft and sweet like she’d never heard.

There was movement in the shadows she’d overlooked, making her jump and bite back a sound of surprise. There was someone there, she realized, half-hidden in the shadows, features impossible to see. “I wanted to watch you play,” the figure said, voice quiet, probably male if she had to guess. “It’s been awhile since I could.”

“You could have gotten seen,” Daisuke said; despite his words, his tone was as far from reprimanding as she thought someone could get. Hikari frowned at the two as Daisuke stopped in front of the other boy, not sure what to make of the comment.

There was a snort in response. “Nonsense. I was hardly careless.”

Daisuke laughed, quiet and fond, and stepped in close. He was hidden in the shadows now too, seemingly without regard for personal space. The other boy simply leaned back against the wall in response, unbothered by the invasion of his space. “So,” Daisuke asked and she had to strain to hear him, “What did you think?”

“You were brilliant. Always were.”

 _Oh_ , Hikari thought, momentarily stunned by the equal warmth of the other boy’s voice. She hadn’t known Daisuke was involved with anyone, wasn’t even sure where he’d find the time.

“Well,” Daisuke said, “how else am I supposed to catch the attention of pretty geniuses?”

“You flatter me.”

“I do try,” Daisuke said, voice so terribly soft.

“Are you coming by later?”

“Always,” Daisuke promised. There was a pause, then Daisuke asked, tone light and cheerful, “Did you miss me?”

“Always,” was the immediate response, “Try to make it back without more bruises.”

“Worried?”

“Of course not. You’re the best.”

Daisuke chuckled, hands coming up to hold the other boy’s face. Hikari felt her breath catch a little at the tenderness of the jester. “Ah, now who’s the flatter?”

“You need to go,” the other boy said, “Your team will be missing you.”

“Oh, but you’re so much prettier than them.”

The boy laughed in response then firmly planted one hand on Daisuke’s face, shoving him away. Daisuke let himself be pushed back; Hikari managed to catch a glimpse of Daisuke’s face as it turned out of the shadows; his eyes were squeezed shut and his smile split his face with his glee. “Go,” the other boy urged again, “I’ll see you at home.”

Daisuke leaned back in and they shared a quick kiss. As the two drew apart and Daisuke started heading back her way, Hikari turned away and half-jogged back at the field, managing to duck into the shadows under the bleachers. She glanced over her shoulder, found Daisuke wandering back to the field at a much slower pace. He smiled hugely, eyes distant, looking blissed out and dopey. He might as well have been walking on air.

She stepped further into the shadows, though he didn’t seem to see her at all. Hikari glanced back the way they’d come, but there was no sign of the other boy also following.

“That was weird,” Plotmon said.

“Yeah,” she agreed.

“Should we do something?”

Hikari frowned in thought, hooking one finger around her goggles and tugging on them. “Is there anything we can do?” she asked back, “I mean, Daisuke’s not going to do anything just because we say so. And if we went to the other boy, what would we even tell him?”

“That he’s dating a megalomaniac?” Plotmon suggested.

“I didn’t recognize him though. Maybe Taichi would know but-” she couldn’t help but think of over a month ago, during the pick up game with Daisuke. The deep sadness that had filled Daisuke’s face at the mention of a love life; Taichi’s resulting panic, like he would have done anything to prevent the topic from coming up. She was no longer sure, after today, that Daisuke’s sadness was real, not some other lie, but she knew Taichi’s panic had been. She really doubted Taichi would have reacted like that if he knew Daisuke apparently had a very happy relationship. “Let’s go home, Plotmon.”

When she got home, it was to find Taichi collapsed on the couch, having a glaring contest with his _International Relations_ textbook. In addition to his glare, his lips were pressed thin and one leg bounced wildly. His greeting contained itself to a distracted wave.

“Problems?” she asked.

“I’d kick this book’s ass if only it had one,” Taichi said, voice full of threat. Hikari laughed a little in response. Taichi finally ceded his contest, looking over at her with concern. “How was the game?”

Hikari paused to consider her words, looking at her brother closely. His words weren’t casual; they sounded strained, uneasy. There were stress lines around his eyes and mouth. “It was fine,” she said, mouth numb, “We didn’t talk.”

She didn’t want to worsen that look, not by bringing up another of Daisuke’s lies. Especially not when she already doubted Taichi having any more idea than she did.

The tension flooded from Taichi’s face with such intensity, she didn’t regret it.

*****

Saturday, the team gathered at Iori’s. Ostensibly, it was a strategy meeting and that’s what she told Taichi as she left. However, considering the Empire’s current tactics, these meetings usually devolved quickly into complaining about school; all the same, it was nice to spend time with them, to get out of her head for a while. Tea was waiting for them when they arrived.

Iori’s grandfather sat in one of the chairs, sipping at his own cup of tea. Though his age showed clearly in his hair and wrinkles, his eyes still burned sharp and clear and intelligent. He smiled as they entered before standing; Hikari was always a little surprised and impressed by the ease with which he still moved. “I’ll leave you and your friends be,” he said.

“Thank you, grandpa,” Iori said.

His grandfather smiled warmly at them as he left. Hikari smiled back, nodding at him as she sat down.

“Is there anything else I can get you?” Iori asked, looking at the cups already set out for them.

“No, this is fine,” Hikari assured.

“So polite,” Takeru teased, causing Iori to blush.

“Thank you, Iori-kun,” Hikari said, giving Takeru a pointed look. Takeru grinned back at her.

“So,” Miyako said, drawing the word out, looking at them all as she poured herself tea, “Any updates? Plans?”

“Izumi-san and I were talking,” Iori said immediately, “According to Tentomon’s reports, the Empire’s movements in the east are getting really close to a big village. They were hoping we’d step in, push them back.”

“Oh, yeah, definitely,” Takeru said, “East, south, right now, it doesn’t really matter.”

“That’s good,” Iori said, face going soft with relief, like they were ever going to say no. After only a second, he turned all serious again. “Anything else?” he asked, looking over at her.

“I went to Daisuke-kun’s game last night,” Hikari said. She picked up her own cup, focusing her attention on blowing on it. Despite that, she could feel the weight of their sudden, full attention. “From what I saw, he’ll probably be back to fighting any day now.”

“Well, shit,” Miyako said. She set her cup down a bit hard, making it rattle. “Was not missing fighting him.”

“Oh, I don’t think any of us did,” Takeru said, “So, it’ll be back to business as usual with him, then?”

Her responding silence was probably pretty telling. “I’ve been thinking,” she said slowly. Takeru groaned, a pained look crossing his face. It made her pause unsurely, though she doubted that had been his intention.

“Hikari-san,” Iori said, voice low and quiet.

She looked over at him. He stared back at her, steady and patient, and didn’t say anything more. Just waited. She let herself take a breath, take some of that strength, knowing Iori wouldn’t judge overly harshly. “I think we should try trapping him again.”

“Um, what?” Miyako asked.

“We almost had him last time. And we shouldn’t have run then. If we hadn’t, the war would be over now.”

Takeru leaned forward suddenly, examining her carefully. “Do you really think that?” he asked, but there was something strange about his voice she didn’t wholly understand. A frustration she couldn’t find the source of.

“No one was coming, Takeru. I watched. There was no one,” she said, holding his gaze, refusing to look away.

“Wait, wait, back up, ignore him,” Miyako said, reaching up to hold a hand in front of Takeru’s face. Takeru leaned back, looking down at Miyako with a raised eyebrow. “We only did that well last time because we had an advantage. He was hurt. He’s not going to be hurt this time. He’s never going to fight us hurt again.”

“I know. We’re going to have to compensate in other directions. I was thinking the older Chosen.”

Miyako made a thoughtful sound, leaning back in her seat.

“10 kilometers, wasn’t it?” Iori asked, “We’re going to have to handle that.”

“And I’d like to choose the location this time, not let him dictate where we fight,” Miyako said.

Hikari listened to them talk, a quick back and forth of ideas that they barely finished before moving onto the next. Takeru leaned forward again, catching her attention. He held up a hand in thought and asked slowly, “Do you believe that, or do you believe that because Taichi-san does?”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Hikari asked, frowning back at him.

“Half the time, you do things because you think it's what Taichi-san would do. And it gets you in trouble. I’m worried, is all.”

“Thank you Takeru, but that’s not necessary.”

“Hey,” Miyako called, drawing their attention back, “Which Chosen were you thinking about calling in?”

Hikari smiled back at her. “All of them.”


	8. The Kaiser

“Daisuke!” 

The word echoed across the plain, shuddered past the arid red dust, the tiny stones that always found their way into shoes. Taichi marched across to the dark tower, which split the otherwise empty area, eery and imposing against the blue sky. Taichi didn’t stop until he stood at the tower’s base, glaring up at it. He ignored Agumon trying his best to run after him, the desperate calls for his name. “I know these things have surveillance! I know you can hear me! We’re going to talk and I’m not leaving until we do!”

Agumon ran to his side, panting heavily from trying to keep up with Taichi. “Taichi, this is a bad idea,” he said, once he’d caught his breathe, “He will actually show up.”

“Good,” Taichi snapped back, “I’m tired this. Moping around like this is somehow my fault. Watching Hikari come home all beat up. I’m done! I’m not playing this game anymore! He’s going to come down here and face me!” Taichi screamed the last up at the tower; he turned away from Agumon and kicked angrily at the ground. Dust flew up in response, coating the bottom of his pants. 

“Taichi, please,” Agumon begged, “Let’s go home!” 

“Daisuke!” Taichi shouted again, completely ignoring Agumon, “Come out and face me!” 

Taichi wasn’t sure how long he stood there, yelling insults up at the tower, demanding Daisuke’s presence, while Agumon tried to convince him to stop and go home. But eventually, a long shadow fell over them. They both fell silent, gazing skywards, but as far as Taichi could see, there was nothing there. Which meant XV-mon was definitely circling them up there. Taichi let the anger drain from his face briefly, turned a little to look across the wide red plain at where he knew Hikari, Takeru, and their partners were hiding, waiting for his signal.

( _“If we’re going to do this, our biggest concern needs to be his panic button,” Hikari said. Both teams of Chosen gathered in her living room, crowded together around Koushiro’s equipment. His laptop and computer were already displaying information Tentomon had gathered; a hand drawn map showing an approximation of the Digital World was spread out on the table, decorated with markers for the Kaiser’s territory. “We can’t be worried about reinforcements as well as XV-mon.”_

_“If we were to choose the battlefield ahead of time,” Iori said, slow with thought, “Lure him where we want him, couldn’t we clear out any surrounding towers?”_

_“No towers, no rings, no reinforcements,” Yamata said, causing Iori to nod._

_Takeru made a sound of disagreement, holding up a hand. “While I see what you’re trying to do, he’s going to notice that. He’s not stupid. If all those towers suddenly disappear and then we’re just there waiting, he’s gonna know we’re up to something.”_

_“So what if we lure him in first?” Mimi asked._

_“You mean, like, decide where we’re going to strike, get people to the towers, lure Motomiya-kun in, then take them out,” Miyako said._

_“I’m not sure splitting up the team is a good idea,” Hikari said._

_“Pretending nothing is different will be the best way to lure him in. Anything different is going to alert him,” Plotmon said, looking up at her._

_Hikari bit her lip, then said, “But that means our team would be focusing on Daisuke-kun, and everyone else on the towers. No one else can digivolve yet.”_

_“If you cleared out any slaves first, then we stayed behind to take down the towers on a signal,” Sora said._

_“That would just give him plenty of time to notice, and we’d be exhausted before we fought Motomiya,” Iori said, shaking his head._

_There was a moment of silence while everyone thought through options. Then Koushiro leaned forward and pointed towards the map. “Right here,” he said, drawing a wide circle with his finger around an almost empty area, “They conquered this area three weeks ago, but according to Tentomon they haven’t done anything with it yet. We’ve been active just to the north and south, so their focus and resources have been there. There’s really nothing in this area of interest either. It’s just Motomiya’s land grab. If we focus in these areas, there shouldn’t be much, or any, opposition to taking down the towers. You won’t have to worry about us.”_

_“Um,” Miyako said hesitantly. She paused briefly when everyone turned to look at her, then continued, “It’s just, we’ve never lured him out before. Won’t that alert him? I mean, the last time we even tried to find him, it didn’t go well for him.”_

_“I’ll do it,” Taichi said suddenly, looking up at them with an expression that dared them to protest, “Just me. I can do it. He’ll never see it coming.”_

_There was a second of silence, the group glancing around at each other. Then Sora asked, voice soft and worried, “Taichi, are you sure about this?”_

_“Yeah. I want to play him for once.”)_

After a few seconds, there was a great heave of air as XV-mon circled down for a landing. Taichi stepped away from the tower, allowing XV-mon to land between him and it. Daisuke jumped down, landing with a heavy thump of boots upon the dirt. He was missing mask and hood, allowing Taichi a full look at his expression; one eyebrow arched, mouth twisted with disbelief, confusion, distaste. Daisuke crossed his arms over his chest. “Are you drunk?”

Taichi nearly snarled with rage. “You and me are going to have words.”

A bit of the disbelief on Daisuke’s face bled out in favor of amusement. “Oh Taichi,” Daisuke said, almost patronizing, “This again?”

“Yeah, this again.”

Daisuke sighed, took a step forward with hand outstretched, like he was trying to usher Taichi along. “Alright, come on. Let’s get you home,” Daisuke said, tone now just slight annoyance, like he actually believed Taichi had been drinking. Taichi was suddenly struck by the knowledge that Daisuke was planning nothing more than that: to Take Taichi him, ensure he got out of the Digital World safe.

It stung, how little Daisuke considered him a threat. Taichi glared back at him, heard Agumon growl as Daisuke got closer. “No, no, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Uh huh,” Daisuke said. XV-mon made a half-giggle, half-snorting sound, eyes gleaming with amusement. Okay, that was just insulting.

“You know what, fuck it. Forget the Digital World,” he said, ignoring Agumon’s growl choking off into a surprised sound, the way Daisuke’s eyebrows shot up. “We’ve been friends for years. You’ve known Hikari since you were kids. How could you do this to us?”

Daisuke froze, hand still outstretched. His expression was a mix of things Taichi couldn’t be sure he wasn’t projecting onto the other boy. Just because Taichi wanted Daisuke to feel guilty didn’t mean that glint of it in his eyes was really there. And oh, look at that, XV-mon wasn’t laughing anymore. 

“What part of this campaign is so much more important than us?”

“This was never about you,” Daisuke said, low and venomous, shaking his head. His hand dropped back to his side, eyes like steel. “You can’t, you can’t just take the Digital World out of the equation. You’re still its Chosen.”

( _“So, if Daisuke is a Chosen Child,” Taichi said, voice soft, whispered hesitantly into the silence between him, Yamato, and Sora. Yamato shifted, turned to look at him more, while Sora made an inquisitive sound. “Then he would have fought for the Digital World once. Doesn’t that mean something must have turned him against it?”_

 _“I’m sure he thinks he has good reasons,” Sora said, though her tone showed how much she doubted those reasons were_ actually _good. There was a second’s pause, then Sora made a sudden sound of understanding. Her expression was affectionate, though exasperated. “Wait, I get where you’re trying to go with this. If something turned him against the Digital World, meaning he’s not just doing this for kicks, then there’s a chance we can turn him back to our side.”_

_Despite the distance between where he and Yamato sat, Yamato still slipped down in his east until he could shove at Taichi with his foot. “You’re an idiot,” he said firmly, “He won’t talk to you. And even if he does, what makes you think his issues are something that you can fix?”_

_“Well, I have to try, don’t I?” he asked back, “Something drove him to this, right? Turned him against the Digital World? Well, he felt like he couldn’t come to me for help, so I have to prove him wrong.”_

_“You don’t have to do anything,” Sora protested. Yamato just sighed, long and loud, eyes raised to the ceiling. Taichi ignored his dramatics to shrug at Sora, aware his smile was more desperate than anything._

_“So,” Yamato asked, sounding pained, “Are we stopping him, or saving him?”_

_“Do those have to be two different things?”)_

*****

Hikari watched her brother talk with Daisuke, hand fisted tight around her goggles. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, which just worsened her anxiety; if it wasn’t for Nefertimon pressed close against her side, she was sure she’d being coming out of her skin. She also couldn’t make out the particulars of Daisuke’s expression but she didn’t like how Daisuke was withdrawing, losing the easy, unworried set to his shoulders. _Come on, Taichi_ , she thought, _you just have to distract him for a few minutes. Don’t piss him off._

Takeru, whose attention was mostly on his D-3 rather than the stand-off, said, “Last tower just fell. Three minutes and everyone should be close enough to move in.”

Hikari couldn’t risk taking her eyes off Taichi and Daisuke, so Takeru had agreed to keep an eye on the radar, tracking towers and the other Chosen. “Any word from Iori-kun yet?” she asked.

“Nothing yet,” Takeru said, “But it shouldn’t be long.”

Hikari worried at her bottom lip and didn’t answer. She knew he was just trying to reassure her, just as she knew Iori was more than capable of taking care of himself. Still, her nerves were already shot watching Taichi and Daisuke face off, so why not worry about everyone else while she was at it?

The seconds ticked by. Hikari watched her brother and Daisuke continue to talk, Daisuke’s body language slowly closing off, growing more hostile. _Please, don’t piss him off too much_ , she thought. Takeru’s phone vibrated, the silence between them so complete the slight buzz was deafening. Hikari jerked her eyes over to Takeru, Nefertimon going totally tense next to her. Takeru pulled his phone out and the easing of his face unravelled some of the tension in his chest. “Iori-kun,” he said, “He’s in position.” Takeru turned to look at his D-3 again. “I’d say another minute until everyone’s here.”

She nodded in agreement and went about pulling herself onto Nefertimon’s back, so they’d be ready to go as soon as possible. 

( _“There are four towers in the area,_ ” _Koushiro said, looking over his map, “There’s a good bit of distance between all of them, so however else we separate, there should be at least one flier to every team.”_

_“That can’t be that hard to arrange,” Sora said, “There are plenty of us and once the towers go down Birdramon can carry a lot.”_

_“I don’t want Taichi going alone,” Hikari said, “I want someone close who can intervene if something goes wrong. Stay out of sight, obviously, but keep an eye on him.”_

_“We’ll need a coordinator anyways,” Iori said, “Someone to give the signal of when to destroy the towers, when to move in, make sure everyone is ready.”_

_“We can do that,” Plotmon agreed before Hikari said anything._

_Koushiro made a soft humming sound and pointed at one of the tower markers on the map. “This tower has the shortest distance between all three. This should be the tower we draw him to.”_

_“Well, Iori and I can handle that one,” Upamon said, “I can get up under it as Digmon and destroy it when Hikari-chan gives the signal. It’ll have to be slow going to not alert anyone, but I can do it.”_

_“So, that’s six teams altogether,” Hikari said quietly, thinking, “Taichi to distract Daisuke-kun and XV-mon, Iori-kun to destroy the first tower, three teams to destroy the others, and myself and Nefertimon to coordinate.”_

_“That’s a lot to keep track of,” Jou said, “Maybe you should keep someone else with you.”_

_“I’ll do it,” Takeru and Miyako said immediately. They both turned to give each other annoyed looks, though smiles tugged at both of them._

_“Takeru,” Hikari decided, watched Miyako pout, “Holsmon can carry more people than Pegasmon.”_

_“Oh, alright,” Miyako finally sighed.)_

Takeru’s watch beeped; Hikari, who had been steadily counting the seconds, wasn’t surprised at the alarm. Takeru pulled out his phone and sent Iori the signal, nodded across at her. Then, he let out a long, slow breath and rolled his shoulders. “Alright, times up. Might be off by a few seconds, but everyone else should be arriving right behind us.”

“Let’s do this,” Hikari said. Nefertimon immediately pushed herself into the air and set a quick pace towards where Taichi and Daisuke still stood, XV-mon behind Daisuke like he was waiting for a signal. She saw Daisuke’s head turn, eyes rising to them as they soared down. Knowing she was already seen, she called out, “Taichi,” just so he’d know he had back up now.

Hikari was close enough to see the way Daisuke’s eyes flickered to the empty spaces on either side of her and Takeru, clocking Miyako and Iori’s absence. It only took a second, then his eyes went very wide with realization. Daisuke whipped around to XV-mon, who was already tensing for battle, wings rising. “Vee!” Daisuke shouted, warning and panic and concern all layered bright and sharp in his voice.

The tower behind them exploded.

XV-mon spun to face the remains of the tower, Digmon standing triumphant in its ruins, Iori perched on his shoulder. XV-mon’s head snapped around, from Digmon, to Agumon, to Nefertimon and Pegasmon closing in. Hikari didn’t think she’d ever seen him so close to panic. After barely a second of thought, XV-mon spun again and fled towards Daisuke. He was half in flight already, one hand outstretched towards his partner, ready to disappear against the clear sky above as soon as they were together. 

Daisuke had just started to reach back when Digmon barreled into XV-mon’s side and they both went tumbling away. Daisuke made a sharp, worried sound of surprise, head jerking to follow their path. XV-mon shook Digmon off roughly enough Hikari could see Iori struggling to hang on; despite that, Digmon held steady in his way, refusing to allow XV-mon past to his partner. Separated, there wasn’t a chance either would try to run. XV-mon squared off against Digmon, though his attention was obviously split between his enemy and Daisuke. 

Flying overhead to join the fight, Hikari looked down at Daisuke and could understand his concern. Alone on the ground, Daisuke looked small and vulnerable despite his armour, an easy target. Nefertimon kept flying until they were even with Digmon, Pegasmon on his other side.

XV-mon stared across at them, tail thrashing wildly behind. His lips pulled back in a snarl, revealing all his teeth, then he dove forward towards her and Nefertimon. A claw swiped down at her wing, his tail lashing out at Digmon, and their close formation scattered in every direction.

As soon as their line broke, XV-mon abandoned them, raced for Daisuke. Before he got close, Agumon was wrapped in light; Greymon raced to meet him and grabbed XV-mon’s tail with both hands. He yanked hard, feet skidding in the sand, and XV-mon collapsed into the sand.

Daisuke shouted, all inarticulate rage, but Hikari only looked down at him when she heard her brother echo it. She did so in time to see Taichi tackle Daisuke across the stomach, sending them crashing into the sand. They fell in a tangle of limbs, fists and elbows flying, until Daisuke shifted enough to plant one foot firmly in Taichi’s chest and shove him away. Daisuke immediately rolled to his feet, body falling into a defensive stance. His lip was cut.

So was Taichi’s, though he’d also come out of it with one eye already swelling. Still, Taichi grinned bloodily and held out one hand. He had Daisuke’s panic button.

At the same time, XV-mon heaved back to his feet, didn’t even stumble before he charged Greymon. Before Greymon could react, one hand slashed down across his chest, cutting deep and sending him back. The other claw came up, seizing around Greymon’s shoulder, and light built around XV-mon’s chest. 

Nefertimon flew forward immediately. “ _Curse of Queen!”_ The attack forced XV-mon back before he could get the X-Laser off; he flew up, circling above his opponents. Greymon collapsed to one knee, hand to his chest, expression tight with pain. Digmon flew down, landed in front of him as a guard.

Nefertimon and Pegasmon charged XV-mon, intent on pushing him further back from Daisuke, keeping him distracted by the fight. XV-mon flew to meet their charge, claws outstretched. At the last second, Nefertimon re-angled to fly just beneath XV-mon’s return charge; Digmon, now having a clear line of sight, immediately took a shot. “ _Gold Rush!”_

Pegasmon, recovering from his own dodge, aimed “ _Silver Blaze!_ ” to come in just below Digmon’s attack; Nefertimon did the same from above. XV-mon barely slowed at all, used the brief seconds between the attacks to slide between them in a swift display of dexterity. He continued charging Digmon, who would be both slower to react on the ground and have to leave Greymon open to attack in order to dodge. Digmon braced to meet the attack, refusing to abandon his position.

“ _Tempest Wing!”_

The attack slammed into XV-mon’s side, taking him completely by surprise and throwing him off course. Hikari looked left towards the source, saw Holsmon flying in, carrying Miyako, Jou, and Gomamon. She kept looking around, relief making her lightheaded as she saw the others also closing in: Sora and Birdramon, carrying Yamato and Gabumon; Kabuterimon, lagging behind a bit, carrying Koushiro, Mimi, and Palmon.

When she looked back towards XV-mon, he had righted himself and was looking around at the incoming reinforcements. If he’d been close to panic before, he was there now. Hikari pressed her knees into Nefertimon’s sides, so they were already moving when XV-mon snapped back into action. One hand raised in the air had Takeru following in her wake. Holsmon’s attack had knocked XV-mon away at such an angle they were no longer behind him and, instead of racing to catch up, they flew an intercept course. XV-mon was making a mad rush for Daisuke, throwing all caution out the window in the face of their trap; Daisuke, for his part, still stood prepared for another attack from Taichi, but his eyes were on the sky. 

_“Sanctuary Bind!_ ” Light blazed between Nefertimon and Pegasmon as they flew after XV-mon and, in his narrow-minded focus on getting to his partner, XV-mon reacted too late. The bindings wrapped tight around him, trapping his wings to his body. XV-mon plummeted sharply, Nefertimon and Pegasmon following under their own power. He hit the ground hard, falling to his side with a groan. He twitched a little, eyes dazed from the force of landing, looking like he was sliding in and out of consciousness. 

Daisuke shouted, abandoning his stand-off with Taichi to run for his partner. Nefertimon and Pegasmon landed in front of XV-mon, causing Daisuke to skid to a stop. He looked between the two, eyes wild and furious. “Let him go,” Daisuke said in a dangerous tone.

“No,” Hikari said back, voice firm.

The others landed, hopping down from their rides and forming a loose line on either side of her and Nefertimon, preventing Daisuke from reaching XV-mon. Daisuke didn’t even bother with them, eyes not wavering from hers. Hikari slid down from Nefertimon’s back, Takeru mirroring her. Taichi came up to her, settled a hand briefly on her shoulder before turning to look over Greymon. Greymon looked to have mostly recovered, finally shaken off the attack and regained his footing.

“Is it over?” Gomamon asked, clinging to Jou’s shoulders, “Should we digivolve too?”

Hikari looked around. Three Adults, four Armor evolutions, XV-mon on the ground barely moving. “No, I think we’ve won this.”

“I hit the button,” Daisuke said, “Taichi got it away from me but not in time.”

Hikari looked back at him and couldn’t help her smile. “Every tower in 10 kilometers, right? Do you know how many towers are in 10 kilometers?”

“Not including that one?” Daisuke asked, nodding his head at where the tower had once been without actually moving his eyes from her, “Three.” There was a pause then, as Daisuke looked over the assembled group. His eyes slid close, a helpless little smile crossing his face. In a voice of realization, he said, “Ah. None.”

“Guess we entered the war right on time,” she said.

One eyebrow arched up in surprise, recognition of their previous traded words. Daisuke laughed, soft and quiet, hands raised in the air. He shook his head and then, he sat down. Hikari blinked at him, sitting suddenly on the ground, uncaring of the thick red dust he was covered in. He braced his arms on his knees, looking up at all of them without any fear, even though they both surrounded and now towered over him. “I take it back, princess. I’m impressed.”

There was a moment of silence, no one apparently knowing what to do with Daisuke’s ease. Then Hikari forced herself to take a breath. This was Daisuke, so very good at mind games, at acting, at pretending nothing was wrong. “You offered me a deal once,” Hikari said, “I’m willing to offer you the same. Leave the Digital World, give me your digivice, never come back. You can even take your partner, I know he means a lot to you.”

Daisuke snorted, looking amused. “Cute,” he muttered and said nothing else.

Taichi walked up to her side again, staring down at Daisuke without flinching. “We’re taking you home,” he said.

“No,” Daisuke said right back. His smile was sharp and mean. “You’re going to have to drag me.”

“Don’t be stupid, Daisuke. You’ve lost,” Taichi said.

“Maybe,” Daisuke said, calm as anything. There was a second’s pause, where Daisuke appeared to go back to ignoring them, pressing a finger to his split lip. Then he glanced back up at Taichi, almost casual except for the vicious glint in his eyes. “Tell me, Taichi, what happens next? You all drag me home, take my D-3, your sister keeps taking down my towers, and you, what? I’m actually curious what you think’s going to happen. Do we just, pretend nothing happened? Spend the next forever trying to figure out how we ended up here? Like there was ever anything you could do Taichi.”

Daisuke smiled again, a brief twist at the corner of his mouth, arrogant and mean. “I suppose I should have expected it. It must hurt a lot, after all, realizing how completely you failed.”

“Shut up,” Yamato all but growled, stepping forward so he half shielded Taichi from view.

Daisuke didn’t even glance at him, head cocking. Taichi didn’t respond to either of them, just stared back at Daisuke with dark eyes. “You know,” Daisuke said, “There was a point, before I realized this world is complete bullshit, where you could have prevented this. And you didn’t.”

 _Oh_ , Hikari thought, watching Taichi’s expression collapse briefly, a deep pain welling up before he managed to throttle it down. She wondered if that’s what her face had looked like, pinned to a cliff with Daisuke echoing every doubt she had. Because that’s what he was doing, unearthing Taichi’s fears and laying them bare to the group. _Oh, fuck him_. 

“Ignore him,” Hikari ordered sharply, glaring down at Daisuke, “He’s just saying it because he knows it hurts. Like calling me princess.”

“Not a very good loser, is he?” Mimi asked, tone nasty. Daisuke’s eyes flickered over to her and his smile turned to sunshine in the face of her glare. Just briefly, then he went back to playing with the cut on his lip.

Hikari turned away, intent on ignoring him. She looked at where Nefertimon and Pegasmon still held XV-mon trapped; XV-mon looked like he was beginning to put himself back together from his landing. “You got him?” she asked.

They both nodded back at her.

Hikari bit her lip, staring at XV-mon in thought. She really didn’t want to hit him while he was already out of the fight, but there was no way to drag him to a Gate in his Adult form. It would just be easier to force him to dedigivolve. Still, a part of her cringed at giving that kind of order.

As she thought, XV-mon groaned, shook himself, and tried to rise up on his elbows. Upon realizing he was still bound, he started to thrash. They all took a step back unsurely, watching as the bindings strained. 

“Hey, hey, wow, buddy,” Daisuke called, voice gentle and soothing. XV-mon’s head snapped towards him, struggles easing as he saw his partner. Daisuke continued, “It’s okay. It’s over. Just calm down.”

“Sorry,” XV-mon said, settling, voice guilty, “I panicked when I saw them.”

“It’s all alright,” Daisuke assured, smile a tiny, gentle thing just for XV-mon, “Don’t worry about it.”

Quiet mutters caught her attention. She turned away from Daisuke and XV-mon, found Yamato, Sora, and Koushiro gathered around Takeru’s digivice. They were talking heatedly among themselves, though they were at least trying to keep their voices down so as not to alert Daisuke something was going wrong. She wasn’t sure when they’d moved together; last she’d checked, Yamato had been with Taichi, Takeru with Pegasmon, but their expression had her stomach sinking. She walked over to them.

“No, we took it down, I swear,” Yamato insisted. Sora made a sound of agreement next to him.

“How fast can the Empire get them up and active?” Koushiro asked, looking over at Takeru.

Takeru gave a little shrug in response. “It’s not like we’ve ever timed it, but realistically it has to take longer than that, right?”

“What’s wrong?” she asked, making them start.

“One of the towers is back online,” Takeru said, angling his digivice so she could see. The area of the map where Yamato and Sora’s tower had been was once again shaded black. Nerves fissured down her spine.

“When did that happen?”

“I don’t know. I just happened to look,” Takeru answered, “But it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds ago.”

Hikari glanced over at Daisuke again; he’d stopped talking, though he hadn’t moved his eyes from XV-mon. XV-mon, for his part, was now laying calmly on the ground, patient and content as long as he could see his partner. She took a deep breath and ordered, “Keep an eye on it. I’m going to see if we can’t make him surrender rather than drag them both out. If anything changes, tell me immediately.”

“And then we drag him?” Yamato asked and she couldn’t fault him the anger in every word.

“Oh yeah.”

She turned and walked back to Daisuke, stopping at her brother’s side. “Let’s make this easy for everyone. Come with us, of your own free will.”

“No,” Daisuke said again. His arms fell to rest on his knees again, eyes rich with amusement, so completely at ease.

“We will drag you,” Hikari said.

“You can try.”

Hikari paused, staring at him, unnerved. Because this, this wasn’t a lie. He was too at ease, muscles relaxed, position not great for throwing himself into a fight at a second’s notice. It was a vulnerable position, she realized, but his smile was almost mocking. That calm wasn’t a pretense. Anxiety burned molten through her insides. _What are you planning?_ She thought, a little desperately.

“God, you really don’t feel any guilt, do you?” Taichi suddenly bit out, unaware of her thoughts. He didn’t look angry, just deflated, disappointed. Daisuke’s eyes flickered over to him, eyebrows arching in curiosity, without concern. “All this pain, all this death, everything you’ve done and there’s … nothing, is there?”

Daisuke smiled up at Taichi, all teeth and amused golden eyes.

Taichi stared back, eyes sad. “This person you’ve become… what would Ichijouji think?”

He might as well have punched Daisuke. All the amusement fled, smile dropping instantly. His expression went blank but for the way his jaw wobbled. He gulped noticeably. “Wow. Low blow, Yagami,” he said, in a quiet, miserable voice. He even dared to sound a little betrayed.

Taichi flinched back in the face of that reaction. His eyes fell to the ground and he actually did look guilty, even ashamed.

Daisuke started to laugh.

It was a loud, gleeful sound, one that shook his whole body. He clapped one hand over his face, as if to hold in the laughter, but it didn’t work; it only served to highlight the huge smile on his face. Taichi stepped back unconsciously, and everything about him changed. He looked beyond shaken, bordering on panic, maybe fear. Daisuke looked up at them, smile wide enough to hurt, eyes dancing with mirth. “Your _face_!” he said, giggled still bursting out. He moved his arms to brace in the dirt behind him, smiling widely up at Taichi, seeming to take pleasure in the shock pouring from him. “God, I’ve got you trained. All these years, and now all I have to do is even hint at his name and you just, fold right up.”

“Oh god, what have you done?” Taichi asked, in a horrified, little whisper.

Daisuke’s smile turned smug, the worst kind of poison.

Hikari was distracted by the sudden commotion behind her. “Hikari!” Takeru shouted, “Hikari, it moved!”

She yanked her digivice out of her pocket, looked down at the map. The area where Yamato and Sora’s tower had been, which should have been black, now displayed as clean white. The area they were currently in, however, had turned black. The red hot anxiety froze abruptly into fear.

“Time to go,” she ordered loudly.

“What’s going on?” Miyako demanded.

She ignored her, turning back to Daisuke. Taichi didn’t appear to have heard her, was staring down at Daisuke with that horrified look still. Daisuke glanced over at her and his giggling increased. “Oops,” he said brightly, “Did I forget to mention?”

She didn’t even have time to react to the words before bright light surrounded the three Adult digimon. When it vanished, they were in Child form again. The Armor digimon remained untouched, so XV-mon was still wrapped up, but she didn’t like the wide smile on his face. She looked wildly back at Daisuke. “What did you do?” she asked, voice smaller than she intended.

His smile was smug. “The signal goes out to every tower in 10 kilometers. _And_ the base.”

“The base?” Takeru echoed.

“It’s not as… stationary, as one would first assume,” he said. He leaned forward, smug smile twisting into that familiar, infuriating smirk. “And princess, you can’t take down the tower there.”

“You’ve been stalling,” Jou said.

“Guess I picked it up somewhere,” Daisuke said and winked over at Taichi.

Hikari spun to look at Nefertimon. “Can you carry him between you two?” she asked, nodding her head at XV-mon. He looked terribly insulted at the idea and started making protesting noises, struggling again.

Nefertimon and Pegasmon looked between each other. “We can try,” Nefertimon said after a second.

Hikari nodded, looked over the whole. Without the older Chosen’s partners being capable of flying, there was no way to transport them all. She barely wanted to ride on Nefertimon with the weight as it was. Mimi gently caught her shoulder and gave her a shove. “Finish the plan,” she urged, “Get them out of here. We can take care of ourselves.”

Hikari wanted to protest, but as she turned, she caught sight of Daisuke’s smirk. He was stalling, so she had to do the opposite, act fast. “Iori-kun, can you carry Daisuke-kun?”

Iori nodded and started to head over to where Daisuke still sat, watching them all patiently. Hikari ignored them, hoped the others would force Daisuke to move along. At the least, she trusted he’d come along if they took XV-mon. 

The next thing she saw was a long line of green falling from the sky behind Nefertimon. She didn’t even have time to take a breath to warn them before Nefertimon was thrown aside, Pegasmon joining her. They both let out sharp screams as they were thrown, catching everyone’s attention. The distance snapped the bindings around XV-mon, who surged back to his feet immediately. He gave a full body shiver, wings shaking loose, then turned to face his rescuer. A huge smile lit up his face. “Stingmon,” he called with bright, gleeful affection, the kind of which she’d only ever seen him give Daisuke.

It was the same digimon she’d seen flying to Daisuke’s rescue last time, Hikari realized. Tall, dark green, an Adult insect digimon. This close, she realized the most important thing, with a terrible, cold, sinking sensation. He didn’t have a Ring.

“Yo, Stingmon,” Daisuke called, climbing to his feet, calm and relaxed as could be.

“Daisuke-kun,” Stingmon said, in a deep, quiet voice, “I got here as soon as I could.”

“Never doubted you, buddy,” Daisuke said. Then he glanced around and an odd expression took over his face. “Where is he?”

“We noticed the towers falling before you sent out the signal. We grew, suspicious, so he sent me out ahead,” Stingmon said, as if that explained anything at all.

Daisuke’s eyebrows shot up, then a wide smile took over his face. “Oh, princess. You really fucked up.”

That’s when she saw them. She should have seen them before; someone should have, but they’d all been so busy with Daisuke and XV-mon and their digivices, they hadn’t. There was a large group of digimon incoming fast, moving in clear formation. She took a step back, blood turning to ice. She whistled, gathering everyone’s attention back on her, then motioned them all back, so they were no longer caught between Daisuke, the two digimon behind them, and the incoming horde.

Daisuke followed everyone’s movement with his eyes, circling opposite them until he stood even with XV-mon. He rested a gentle hand on XV-mon’s arm. “You okay?”

“I’m awesome,” XV-mon said and aimed a bright smile across at Stingmon.

Movement above caught Hikari’s attention. She looked up as an Airdramon descended to land XV-mon and Stingmon. That digimon, at least, had a Ring, so the whole Digital World hadn’t gone off the rails and suddenly started working for Daisuke freely. Daisuke turned to the Airdramon, expression equal parts soft warmth and eager longing.

Another human boy jumped down from the Airdramon’s back.

Hikari stared, and tried to understand.

The other boy was taller, with wild, dark hair, sunglasses hiding his eyes. He wasn’t wearing armour like Daisuke, instead fine, formal clothes under a dark longcoat. Even though she couldn’t see his eyes, she could feel his cold regard, the unnerving weight of it. His mouth was twisted, half-snarl, half- disgusted grimace. He walked like he already owned the world, arrogant, dismissive, unafraid of harm.

He kept walking until he was about even with Daisuke, attention unwaveringly focused on the Chosen. It was Daisuke who walked over to his side, expression naked with affection.

Then Daisuke kneeled.

There were startled sounds from the Chosen all around her. Hikari was silent, staring, becoming aware of what was really happening with a slow, pained realization. She wanted to laugh with it; she wanted to cry, and scream, and disappear with it. She wanted to not be right, wanted to have not fallen for _another_ one of Daisuke’s tricks.

 _He used ‘we’_ , Hikari thought, helpless, desperate.

The other boy looked down at Daisuke and the bow of his mouth softened into almost surprise. Then he sighed, shook his head, lips turning up in a gentle smile. One hand slid along the curve of Daisuke’s jaw and urged him gently to his feet. “So dramatic. What have I said about you kneeling?”

“Not to do it,” Daisuke answered immediately, gazing up at the other boy adoringly. Hikari's stomach dropped, because that was the same look from the game and the boy in the shadows. She should have said something.

“Not to anyone,” the other boy agreed, “Not even to me.”

Then he paused, and the smile dropped from his face. The hand cupping Daisuke’s jaw shifted to rub under his lip, not quite touching where it was busted. “You’re hurt,” he observed in a voice that was suddenly all too calm. There was no sign of it at all and that made the anger she knew was there so much worse.

“I’m fine,” Daisuke assured but his head tilted into the touch all the same.

The other boy frowned hugely, whole body mirroring displeasure. He tilted to the side slightly, looking around Daisuke to see XV-mon. “Vee?” he called.

XV-mon smiled down at him hugely. “I’m okay. Stingmon saved me.”

“Who the hell are you?” Taichi demanded, finding his voice.

“He’s the Kaiser,” Hikari answered for them, in a quiet, defeated tone. She looked at the two and remembered first starring Daisuke down, with his black dragon mask and cocky posturing.

 _“So you_ are _the Kaiser then.”_

_“...Yes, alright. Sure. I’m the Kaiser.”_

She should have known. Should have suspected from that brief, startled pause, the odd wording, that he was lying at the first.

“But Motomiya-” Sora protested.

Hikari shook her head. “No. We assumed and he let us. Daisuke’s not the Kaiser. He’s the Knight.” She couldn’t help a single, short laugh as it all slid into place. They should have known. “He lied. He let us believe he was the Kaiser so we’d focus on him instead of finding the real Kaiser.”

Daisuke smirked, eyes on her for only the briefest of seconds before he looked over at the real Kaiser. He noddd his head towards her and told his companion, “Princess is on a roll today.”

“I’m sure,” the Kaiser said, attention still mostly on Daisuke’s face, the blood smeared over his mouth.

Hikari closed her eyes, knew they wouldn’t be able to run away fast enough to escape. There was a small army lined up behind the two boys; the two unRinged digimon stood towering and protective at each boy’s shoulder, watching them unwaveringly. She felt oddly weightless with the knowledge, burned clean of everything; nothing could touch her now, they’d already lost. Just waiting for the killing blow. There was no way to protect any of them.

Daisuke trailed one hand down the Kaiser’s arm, eyes steady on his face. “Thanks for bringing the cavalry,” he said.

“Always,” the other boy said. Yeah, that was definitely the same boy from the soccer game.

Daisuke grinned sunnily then turned back to them, took a few steps forward. His stance, expression, everything about him changed, sharpened and hardened back to the familiar battle readiness.”Well,” he said, smirking, “Shall we try this again with more even odds?”

Considering she had four Armor and a bunch of Child digimon, she didn’t think the odds were exactly even.

The Kaiser shook his head, stepping forward as well until the two were even again. “Oh please. We didn’t get this far with even odds. I’ll help.”

Daisuke’s shoulders went slack with surprise. There was a moment’s pause, like he actually needed to process the words, then he snapped around to gape at the Kaiser. Another beat, then Daisuke fucking lit up. He looked like he had on the soccer field, blissed out and elated. “Really? You’re going to fight with me?”

“It has been a while, hasn’t it?” The Kaiser noted. He reached towards Daisuke again, pressing careful fingers to the corner of his lip. “Besides, hurting you, that’s not something I can allow to stand.”

Hikari shivered, because there was the anger she’d known existed, layered thick in his voice, sharp-edged and hard as steel for all his touch remained gentle. The Kaiser turned to look at them and she was glad she couldn’t see his eyes, see exactly how angry he was. “No, they’re going to pay for that,” the Kaiser promised, words the waiting guillotine.

The Ringed digimon behind them surged forward and the battle began.

*****

Taichi didn’t know where Agumon was. He didn’t… he didn’t know where anyone was. 

He gotten separated from Agumon and Hikari when the Airdramon had charged them; he’d thrown himself in the opposite direction of everyone else to get away, only to be cornered by a Gaogamon and chased further away. The Gaogamon had tossed him about during the chase, though he’d finally lost it eventually. Only he couldn’t figure out where the others were; the battle had kicked up great clouds of dirt, combined with smoke from different attacks, so he could only see a few feet. He could still hear fighting though. He prayed Hikari was managing her own, though he knew she’d more than improved while he’d been moping about in the human world.

Taichi tried to push himself back to his feet, but the world swam beneath him until it was just easier to collapse onto his stomach again. His head pounded; he could feel the blood slicked through his hair, which he was pretty sure meant a concussion. The rest of him ached, in the sharp-edged way that warned of fractures and sprains prepared to become much worse. 

It was easier, it hurt less, to lay on the ground and try to breathe through what he was pretty sure were fractured ribs.

The sound of boots on the dirt had him rolling onto his back. He stared up at the sky, barely visible through the red dust, and waited for Daisuke to appear above. It wasn’t Daisuke.

The Kaiser crossed into his line of sight. 

Taichi stared up at the younger boy, fear shivering down his spine. The Kaiser stared down at him for a beat, head cocked. “Yagami Taichi,” he said at last, “Perfect.” He dropped down into a crouch, one hand removing his sunglasses so they could look at each other full on. His eyes were a clear, crystal blue, cold and unyielding. 

Taichi stared up at him, breath shortening into pants. “I know you,” he muttered, dazed, confused. Unable to shake the recognition that filled him. Because he did know this boy, the shape of his face, the light blue of his eyes; he just couldn’t place it. Couldn’t remember the name that trembled on his tongue.

“It has been a very long time,” the Kaiser said. Taichi struggled up onto his elbows, trying to put himself at a more even level with the Kaiser. Only the Kaiser reached forward and settled his hand against his chest; his fingertips pressed, with what felt like a planned exactness, on the hollow of his throat. Taichi stopped breathing briefly beneath the pressure. “Don’t move,” the Kaiser ordered, voice steel and ice and the utter expectation of being obeyed.

Taichi froze, unsure if it was obedience or simply fear that compelled him to do so.

He hated him. Hated him for what he’d done to the Digital World, for the lives he’d destroyed. For the towers, and Rings, and all of Hikari’s bruises. 

Hated him also for being what he was- tall and gorgeous and brilliant enough to build an Empire. Hated him for being _exactly_ Daisuke’s type.

The Kaiser’s fingers tapped against his chest- one, two, one- as they stared at each other. “Relax. I’m not going to kill you,” The Kaiser finally said, never mind his eyes promised the exact opposite. “Daisuke doesn’t actually want you dead, despite everything.”

“So I get to live on his grace?” Taichi finally managed to dredge up his voice, managed to spit the words out despite the trembling in his chest.

“No, you get to live on mine. You may not understand it, but you are just a pawn of forces much bigger than yourself. I’m not without sympathy for that,” the Kaiser said. He pulled his hand away, eyes still intent on Taichi. His head cocked, lips twisting oddly, like he found Taichi particularly amusing. “Tell me, Yagami, you have any idea what it really means to be Chosen?”

“I know you don’t.”

“On the contrary, I know better than anyone,” he said, and his expression went odd briefly, focused on something else for a second. When he looked at Taichi again, there was a bitter, vengeful twist to his lips, eyes spitting anger, “Speaking from that experience, you should consider, exactly how much are you willing to sacrifice for someone else’s war?”

“Screw you,” Taichi hissed out.

One eyebrow rose slowly; it was the only reaction he got. “Chosen,” the Kaiser scoffed for a second. His stance shifted, legs moving to better brace himself. Then the Kaiser leaned forward and dislocated Taichi’s shoulder.

Taichi screamed, thrashed against the boy’s hold until he was released, then curled onto his side. Short, panicked breaths escaped him, echoing in his ears loud as thunder. When the immediate pain had softened from inferno to simply a stabbing knife, he looked back up at the Kaiser. 

The Kaiser watched him; there was a cold rage in his eyes, so different from Daisuke’s yet no less terrifying for it. “For hurting him,” the Kaiser said simply. He didn’t need to specify.

The Kaiser replaced his glasses and stood, turned away from him without fear, like Taichi wasn’t a threat at all, like he was nothing. It was only once the Kaiser started walking away, Taichi noticed the large shadow hiding in the dust and smoke. Stingmon stepped forward into sight, hovering at the Kaiser’s shoulder, a perfect guard. 

“Daisuke,” the Kaiser said, didn’t even bother to raise his voice very much. However, after a few seconds, XV-mon glided down from the skies, Daisuke perched on his shoulders. Daisuke was grinning, eyes bright and alive in ways Taichi hadn’t seen in years.

“Hey, you,” Daisuke said in a soft voice.

The Kaiser smiled up at him. “Time to go,” he said, “We’re pulling out.”

Daisuke blinked down at him. “We’re letting them go?” he asked, “You’re in a good mood.”

“Well, I got to fight with you, didn’t I?” the Kaiser asked. Daisuke’s response was pure glee and Taichi hated it; he knew what Daisuke looked like in love and that was it. He hated that the Kaiser could get that kind of reaction, hated the intimate, easy way they existed in each other’s space. “Besides, I’m not done with them yet. They hurt you. They don’t get to walk away after just one battle. They can suffer a little more before we get rid of them.”

“It’s just a cut.”

“The newest in a long line of offenses,” the Kaiser corrected. He held up a hand then. “Let’s go home, ok?”

Daisuke gripped his hand gently, everything about him warmth and soft edges. “Ok,” he agreed and helped pull him up onto XV-mon.

As the Kaiser settled, Daisuke turned away from him and whistled, loud and sharp and piercing. The sounds of battle stopped drew to a stop. Then, the steady beat of dozens of bodies moving away in formation. XV-mon and Stingmon shared a look then rose into the air as one.

Taichi laid on the ground as they disappeared into the sky. For a bit, everything was quiet, dust slowly settling. Then a voice that was unmistakably Agumon’s called out, “Taichi?”

It only took a second to be echoed by Hikari.

Taichi turned his head a little into the dirt and didn’t bother fighting the few tears that welled out of relief. They were alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The number of logic holes I found myself in and had to fix this chapter was honestly amazing. But I've mostly got it.  
> In other news, this chapter marks the end of my (unmarked, unofficial) first act. So we are now 1/4 of the way through the story! Had a strange moment writing this chapter, because a part of me never really thought I'd get to this chapter, that I'd get even this far. Thanks for all the encouragement everyone! :D


	9. The Mystery of Ichijouji Ken

Hikari could do with never hearing a bone being reset ever, ever again.

Next to her, Miyako let out a tiny sound, parts disgust and distress, and gave a full-body shiver. Taichi yelped loudly, voice choking halfway through. He was silent for a second, then groaned, the sound long and rough and pained, clutching his arm.

“You said it was going to be on three,” Taichi said, voice thin even as he glared viciously up at Jou.

“I lied,” Jou answered blandly, “And stop moving.”

“Sincerity Crest bullshit,” Taichi grumbled but didn’t fight when Jou began carefully maneuvering his arm into a sling.

“Is it over yet?” Mimi asked. Hikari looked over at her, saw her peeking hesitantly out from behind her fingers.

“Yes, Mimi-kun,” Jou answered, not turning away from Taichi, “You’re gonna want to keep that sling on for a few weeks. And no sports.” Jou smiled, just a little, when Taichi whined. “Now, let me see that head wound.”

Hikari watched as Jou began to clean the gash that scored across the side of Taichi’s head, cutting a neat, thin line through his hair. She wondered if it would scar. Jou looked tired as he worked, dark circles around his eyes visible even behind his glasses; his hands were steady as they worked, but every other part of him was slumped, dragged down by some heavy weight. His mouth was a pressed thin line. 

“He’s going to be alright?” Sora asked, voice soft.

“Yeah,” Jou said, “I don’t think he actually has a concussion. Got lucky there.”

Relief swept through her, making her slump down into the couch. Miyako’s hand sought out hers, gripping tight to the point her knuckles went white. Hikari didn’t protest, just turned her hand to better grip back. Miyako leaned against her, head dropping down onto her shoulder with another quiet sound of distress.

They were all tired, Hikari knew, looking over the bowed heads and slumped spines. It was the kind of exhaustion that only came with a disheartening defeat. Even the Baby digimon looked defeated.

Hikari tried to think about what she could have done differently, how she could have somehow scavenged that mess, but she couldn’t find a way. _I could have forced them home immediately_ , Hikari thought, and could picture it so easily. XV-mon, already unconscious, defenseless; it would only have taken one hit to force him to dedigivolve to V-mon, who was so much easier to carry. Daisuke would doubtlessly protest the treatment of his partner but they had had him completely outnumbered. Even if he tried to fight back, he wouldn’t have won.

Hikari shivered suddenly, nauseous, and tried to banish the thoughts. Attacking XV-mon when he couldn’t fight back, hitting him hard enough to dedigivolve him, that was beyond vicious. It was cruel. And to do the same to Daisuke when he was defenseless, already beaten… _I don’t want to be that kind of person._

Even if it meant this- surrounded by her team, defeated, injured, demoralized-, she couldn’t give an order like that. She’d rather have this, every time.

The only way they could have prevented it, the only way she could accept preventing it, was to have seen it coming, really. To have somehow planned to suddenly be facing down a battalion. And Daisuke had done his best to make sure they didn’t see it coming. 

But, he hadn’t been perfect about it. He’d slipped up sometimes; more importantly, she’d noticed when he had. She could have looked deeper into it, should have. That she could have changed. “I knew things weren’t adding up correctly,” she admitted to the group, “I should have looked into it more.”

They paused, turned to look at her in confusion. Hikari kept her eyes on her hands, on Miyako’s fingers tangled with hers. Finally Mimi sighed, soft and sad, and said, “Oh, Hikari-chan, no. This isn’t your fault.”

“You had concerns, and I dismissed them,” Taichi said. He was trying to look at her out of the corner of his eyes, since Jou absolutely refused to allow him to move his head while he was still working. “If it’s on anyone, it’s on me.”

“But I’m the one who called him the Kaiser,” Takeru protested, “He probably wouldn’t have even thought to lie to us if I hadn’t.”

“Well, it’s not like you didn’t have a reason for believing that,” Tokomon said, “We only knew that the Kaiser was human, not the Knight as well.”

Sora nodded and said, “You weren’t the only one there that day. No one thought twice about the assumption.”

“I suppose I should take some of the blame as well,” Koushiro said. He was sitting on the far end of the couch, twisted ankle propped up until Jou was done with Taichi’s more serious injuries. “I’ve been coordinating the information we get from the Digital World. There should have been some hint at least that Motomiya had a partner. I missed it.”

“And _I_ suppose, we should all stop blaming ourselves, and just admit Motomiya played us. He played us very well,” Yamato said at last, sounding very annoyed. He was sitting next to Takeru, covered in a fine layer of red dust, though he was still no match for the mess Taichi was caked in, and the skin over the palms of his hands was scraped raw. He looked over them all, expression annoyed, arms crossed over his chest.

“Right,” Miyako said, head lifting from Hikari’s shoulder. She didn’t release her hand though. “So, this Kaiser. Do we know anything about him?”

“Considering that yesterday we didn’t know he existed, I’m gonna say no,” Upamon said.

“Actually,” Iori said, “We could probably infer a lot. Izumi-san?”

Koushiro looked over at the younger boy in surprise at being addressed. “Yes?”

“Is it possible you didn’t actually miss anything? That there simply was no information to find?”

“I can’t say it's impossible. But the improbability would be…”

“Except, you don’t get information from very far inside the territories, right?”

Koushiro blinked, then a small smile tilted his lips up. “Ah, I see where you’re going. The further into the Empire you go, the tighter reign the Kaiser has. There aren’t any free digimon in those areas to pass on information. And if there is no information about the Kaiser for us to find, it would have to mean he almost never leaves the heart of his territory, not unless there’s an emergency.”

“Odd,” Jou muttered, finishing wrapping Taichi’s head and turning to help Koushiro, “That digimon of his. He tore through us.”

That was true, Hikari thought. Before the Kaiser had separated to hunt down Taichi, Stingmon and XV-mon had fought side by side. Stingmon hadn’t been as fast as XV-mon, nor did he hit as hard, but he’d been patient and cripplingly precise when he eventually struck. Terrible alone, except for how he never fought alone; he and XV-mon worked as one unit, moved around and with each other with the ease that only come from long practice and complete trust.

“Between him and Motomiya,” Iori said, voice quiet and thoughtful, “We never would have survived the first week.”

“So,” Plotmon said, “Why would the Kaiser keep to his base when he and Motomiya together could have destroyed us?”

“Complacency, maybe,” Takeru said, “Motomiya-kun was doing a good job of conquering the Digital World by himself. Maybe the Kaiser focused on other things until we started winning.”

“Maybe,” Hikari said, “but, I’m not sure we have enough information yet to say either way.”

There was a long moment of silence where everyone got lost in thought. Then Mimi asked, almost hesitantly, “Right, um, did anyone else notice they were really… _close_?” She sounded almost like she was worried about even suggesting it. Which was silly; Hikari thought their relationship had been obvious, in the way Daisuke had softened, the Kaiser had warmed.

Taichi huffed, half-amused, half-sad. “Yeah. The Kaiser, he’s… well, that’s Daisuke’s type almost exactly. Actually, he kind of reminds me of…”

“Taichi?” Yamato asked when Taichi trailed off and began to pale rapidly.

Taichi leaned forward suddenly, eyes shocked wide. Bit by bit, his expression melted into something horrified and betrayed. “ _Son of a bitch_ ,” he breathed, soft and yet so fervent, emotion packed tight to breaking in the short words, “It’s Ichijouji Ken.”

“The boy from the photo?” Hikari asked. What she thought was _the boy you mentioned earlier_ , when Daisuke had laughed in their faces and Taichi had gone near silent with horror.

Taichi nodded, not looking at her. “The Kaiser. It’s Ichijouji Ken.”

“Who?” Takeru asked, eyes darting between her and Taichi. Hikari shrugged back at him, since all she knew was that one picture of a small boy, smile sweet, eyes warm and dark; so different from the Kaiser it was near impossible to imagine, except she’d seen the same change in Daisuke.

Next to her, Miyako muttered, mostly to herself, voice the picture of confusion, “I know that name.”

“He was Daisuke’s ex,” Taichi said.

In a quiet grumble, Iori said, “Didn’t look much like ex’s to me.”

Taichi huffed out a breath. “No, no they didn’t,” he agreed. His expression was a mess; disbelief, horror, anger, sadness, betrayal, all splitting at the seams. He was shaking, she noticed, a tiny little shiver through his whole body.

“Taichi,” she asked, voice softened as much as she could. She didn’t know anything about this Ichijouji, about the history Taichi and Daisuke had with him, but if Taichi was going to react like that... “Are you sure?”

He nodded and didn’t say a word, stared down at his hands. Yamato made a quiet sound, suddenly sitting up straight, eyes intent on Taichi. After a second of watching him, Yamato glanced over at Sora; Hikari watched them share a heavy look before both turned their attention back to Taichi.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait,” Miyako said in a sudden, rising voice. Her expression was bright and excited as she exclaimed, “I _do_ know that name! Remember, he was all over the news awhile ago. Child genius Ichijouji Ken disappears on his way home from school! There was a huge search for him. Like, nation wide.”

Everyone stared back at her for a moment, faces blank with confusion. Then Koushiro made a quiet, thoughtful sound. “No, wait, you’re right. I do remember that. He was some sort of celebrity, right? Smartest kid in the country, something like that. That was years ago.”

“Been almost three since he vanished,” Taichi said, voice quiet, “They never found a trace.”

“If he disappeared into the Digital World, they wouldn’t have,” Jou said.

Hikari continued to watch Taichi. He hadn’t looked up from his hands yet and the shaking was growing more pronounced. His lips pressed into a thin line, which made his eyes look huge and glassy. She took a deep, deliberate breath and turned to look at everyone else. “We should look into him, but not today. We’re exhausted,” she said.

As if she’d given some sort of permission, everyone slumped back into their seats like they’d had their strings cut. “I can agree with that,” Upamon said, practically jelly in Iori’s lap.

“Why don’t the rest of you go home? Get some rest. We’ll meet again later to talk about this,” she said.

“That sounds wonderful, Hikari-chan,” Mimi said. She stood, brushing her hands through her hair and attempting to smile for everyone. “Well, bye bye.”

“Goodbye, Mimi-san,” Miyako said.

Mumbled goodbyes echoed through the apartment as everyone began to get to their feet and leave. Hikari watched everyone move about around her; Taichi stayed still for several long moments and she didn’t mention when Sora and Yamato lingered, sneaking him concerned glances.

“Ah, Koushiro-kun,” Jou said, looking over at where Koushiro was still sitting, “Would you like some help home?”

“Yeah, thanks, I’d appreciate it,” Koushiro said, face softening with relief. Careful of his leg, Koushiro began to gather his things, Jou kneeling down to help.

Hikari sighed and pushed herself to her feet, walking over to them. “Koushiro-san, you can leave this here if you want,” she said, looking over the printouts and maps Koushiro had made for them, left out on the table when they went to the Digital World. 

“Are you sure?”

“It’s fine,” she assured, “We’re probably going to need it again soon.”

Koushiro and Jou looked at each other, each face set and exhausted. Jou’s shoulders slumped. “This used to be easier,” Jou muttered, pushing himself to his feet.

“The joys of getting older,” Koushiro said, though he didn’t sound at all amused.

“Listen, Koushiro-san,” Hikari said hesitantly, eyes on the ground, “I know you’re tired but-”

“What do you need?” Koushiro asked immediately, not even waiting for her to finish.

“Can you look into Ichijouji? It’s just, I don’t want this all to be on Taichi,” she said, lowering her voice on the last words. She looked over her shoulder at where her brother sat. 

Taichi was at that moment beginning to push himself to his feet, moving slowly, careful with both arm and head. Once on his feet Taichi crossed the living room and disappeared out on the balcony. There was a moment of silence; she looked back to find both Jou and Koushiro watching the balcony door with anxious expressions. “Yeah,” Koushiro said at last, “I can do that.”

*****

Taichi left the balcony door open behind him. He moved to awkwardly brace himself against the railing, trying his best to be careful with the sling. He looked skyward, watched the clouds move past, and focused on breathing past the tangle of emotions in his chest.

After a few seconds, Sora leaned against the railing to his left, her elbow knocking gently against his good one. Another second, the door slid closed and Yamato appeared on his left, back braced against the railing, head thrown back to stare at the sky. “You okay?” Sora asked softly.

Taichi took a minute, tried to think through the maelstrom in his head. “I was so ready to… hate him,” he said eventually, “I mean, I do hate him. But,” he stopped, sighed heavily, couldn’t seem to put his thoughts in the right order.

“We talking about the Kaiser here, or Motomiya?” Yamato asked.

“Ichijouji,” he said, “It’s just, when we thought Daisuke was actually the Kaiser… I kept thinking about the timing of it all. And it made this terrible sense to me. Daisuke becomes the Kaiser, and then, maybe a few months later, less, Ichijouji disappears. So maybe, Ichijouji disappears because of what was happening with Daisuke. I hated thinking it, but at the same time, it seemed so obvious.

“And then, standing on that field, all those weeks of thinking of Ichijouji as a _victim_ , and seeing the real Kaiser. I didn’t recognize him then but, Daisuke looked at him the way he used to look at Ichijouji. I was so ready, at that point, to feel betrayed on Ichijouji’s behalf. That he got, _replaced_ by… that. And to hate the Kaiser for, being what Daisuke had loved in Ichijouji and, using that to… I don’t know.

“So, of course, turns out it actually _is_ Ichijouji. Should have expected it by now.”

Sora sighed heavily, leaned a little more against his side. The weight of her, the warmth, was reassuring; he couldn’t help relaxing into it. He needed it, the simple reminder he wasn’t alone; that just because they hadn’t his experience with Daisuke didn’t mean they didn’t understand what he was going through.

“You know, I’m the one who encouraged Daisuke to pursue Ichijouji,” he said after a minute.

 _(“What are you doing, Motomiya?”_ Taichi had asked, watching Daisuke watch Ichijouji play soccer at Intersectionals. Daisuke had made confused sounds, like the whole stadium hadn’t seen him moon-eyed and red-faced over Ichijouji. _“You think he’s gonna wait forever? Ask him out already.”_

Daisuke had shown up three weeks later, flushed red with victory, glee, bursting at the seams with it. He’d set to outshining the sun for a month straight. _“I’m dating Ken_ , _”_ he’d said to anyone who asked.)

“That doesn’t make this your fault,” Sora said.

“I know that,” he said, picking at the now-frayed hem of his shirt rather than look at either of them. Easier that way. “It’s just… I can’t explain it.”

It was just, it had been three years since he’d last seen Ichijouji. He couldn’t really pinpoint when during those three years he’d given up on anyone actually finding him; when he’d started to have to watch his words around Daisuke because he didn’t really believe Ichijouji was _alive_. Three years, living with Ichijouji’s ghost, wondering every day if _today_ would be the day Daisuke started to heal. 

Three years of watching Daisuke fall apart again and again, the scab pulled open fresh with every mention of Ichijouji, or anything related to him. Three years of Daisuke distant-eyed, hollow-boned; of failing at providing whatever words of comfort Daisuke needed to move on. Of trying to protect Daisuke from the memory of a boy who’d become more of a concept to Taichi than a person.

And it had all been a lie.

Nothing had ever happened to Ichijouji. Daisuke had known where he was the whole time. Every tear, every late-night breakdown or sad-eyed reminisce. It had been three years of lies, of Daisuke twisting him about until he jumped to the defense at the slightest wrong mention of Ichijouji. 

Taichi wondered how many times he’d turned away just in time to miss Daisuke’s mocking smirk.

“When Ichijouji disappeared, it wrecked Daisuke,” he said finally, “I’ve done everything I could think of to pick him back up but… Of course it didn’t work. It was a lie from the start.”

“Taichi,” Yamato said, voice carefully quiet in a way that rankled, “Are you okay?”

“No,” he snarled, because he was so tired of people asking him that lately. Then he sighed heavily. “Sorry, sorry. I’m just…”

“Did you know him well? Ichijouji?” Sora asked.

“Honestly, not really, no,” Taichi answered, “We’d met a handful of times but, we weren’t close.” He could probably recall all those times if he tried, there’d been so few. They’d never been close; the most Taichi could say was that his mental picture of Ichijouji had switched from _that genius kid on TV_ to _that really quiet, shy boy Daisuke’s dating_. Ichijouji had lived far enough away, been so busy, that being close hadn’t been feasible, even if at one point he’d been sure they’d both wanted to be friends.

“And now he’s the Kaiser,” Yamato said.

“Yeah,” Taichi muttered. He thought back over it, those brief times they’d met; for a minute he wanted to say it sounded as preposterous to think of him as the Kaiser as it was to think the same of Daisuke. Ichijouji had been impeccably polite, attentive to others’ moods, eternally soft-spoken; Taichi didn’t think he’d ever heard Ichijouji raise his voice. He’d have called the boy shy, once upon a time.

Except, Taichi didn’t have to think hard to remember that Ichijouji had been terrifying beneath that politeness. The shyness he was sure now was a mask had only slipped once when Taichi had been around, but it had been hard to forget. He’d run over to Daisuke’s to see if he wanted to join a pick up match; he’d hadn’t realized until halfway through asking him that Ichijouji had even been in the apartment. He’d just looked up when he saw movement, found Ichijouji haunting the hallway over Daisuke’s shoulder. His eyes had been piercing and furious, jaw clenched, lips pulled into a scowl; everything about him had been cold and sharp, had sent his fight-or-flight instincts screaming in ways they hadn’t since returning to the Digital World.

(“ _I’m sorry_ ,” Ichijouji had said later, all that cold fury gone. He had, in fact, been as opposite from that fury as he could get. He’d hunched into himself, picking at his nails, refusing to make eye contact. “ _I didn’t mean to be rude. I shouldn’t have been. It’s just, I get so little time with Daisuke as it is.”_

The thing was, Taichi did know the two didn’t get that much time together. Daisuke had talked about it constantly; how, between school and clubs and sports and interviews, Ichijouji always seemed to be fitting 48 hours of work into 12. Between that and the way Ichijouji’s voice had dipped into quiet misery, he’d forgiven Ichijouji immediately. He had, at the time, brushed it off as the understandable frustration of a young kid under way too much pressure. He’d made himself forget that brief moment where there’d been real weight behind Ichijouji’s anger; where Taichi had felt actual _threat_ from him.)

Thinking back on it, it was easy to recognize that cold fury as the Kaiser.

“The things is,” Taichi said slowly, thinking it through. He said again, “The thing is, I keep looking for a reason for Daisuke, some understanding, because I guess, even staring him down in battle, I never really bought him as the Kaiser. I keep wanting there to be some reason, that way it's not just on him. But Ichijouji? Yeah, I buy Ichijouji.”

“He does scream evil genius a bit more than Motomiya-kun did,” Sora said, smiling timidly, like she wasn’t sure if he was in the mood for that kind of joke.

“Well that’s true,” he said, at first just to sooth her concern. Then, the more he thought about it, the more he couldn’t help but ask, “Do you think Ichijouji could have… manipulated him into this somehow?”

Because if one thing was still true, if he believed anything that had come from those two, it was that Daisuke _loved_ Ichijouji, in a terrifyingly all-consuming kind of way.

“It would be one hell of a manipulation if he did,” Sora answered, “Motomiya-kun’s done some terrible things, Taichi. Not just the lies but, well, this whole war. It’s just… what do you think, Yamato?”

Taichi turned to look at Yamato fully. Yamato continued to stare up at the sky, mouth pulled down in a frown. “I think,” Yamato said slowly, dragging the words out thoughtfully, “That making these kinds of assumptions without any kind of proof is how they’ve both managed to manipulate us so effectively. We assumed the Knight was the Kaiser before we had a full view of the situation and it almost killed us. Right now, we don’t have enough information to say either way.”

“Reasonable,” Taichi huffed, but his voice was soft and warm.

Yamato turned to smile at him, a cocky little upturn of his mouth. “Well, you’re certainly not going to be.”

“Whatever happens, whatever has happened, we’ll figure it out and handle it together,” Sora said, “As a team.”

Taichi sighed, but there was a lightness along his shoulders and in his chest he hadn’t felt in weeks. “Have I ever said I’d be lost without you two?”

“Yes,” Sora said.

“I could stand to hear it more,” Yamato said right after.

“And you can shut up now,” Taichi ordered, twisting so he could shove at Yamato with his good arm. Yamato snorted; Taichi suspected the only reason he didn’t get shoved back was his head wound.

*****

Daisuke awoke slowly, warm and sated and comfortable, without any reason to not just fall back asleep. He didn’t see a reason to even bother opening his eyes. The sheets he was lying on were much softer than what he had at home, which could only mean he was at the base and, well, if he woke up, he’d just have to go home before someone started to worry about him. Better to stay sleeping, to hoard greedily a few more minutes with Ken.

He reached blindly out along the bed, searching for Ken on either side of him. It wasn’t like Ken to roll away in the night. 

Ken wasn’t in the bed with him.

Daisuke huffed in annoyance; he was not pouting, he wasn’t. Still stubborning keeping his eyes closed- he did not want to wake up yet damn it-, he reached down. There was a small bundle of warmth curled against his legs, another along the dip of his back, both too small to be Ken. His hand reached for that first bundle and brushed along the thick hide he recognized as V-mon just by touch. V-mon didn’t even twitch at his touch, continued snoozing away. Daisuke smiled slightly, chest swelling with sleepy contentment, and reached behind him.

He wasn’t at all surprised to brush up against Wormmon; he was surprised when Wormmon moved under his fingers. Wormmon’s soft voice asked, “Daisuke-kun?”

Daisuke sighed and reluctantly opened his eyes. No use trying to stay sleeping now; he’d just worry the poor ‘mon. “Hey, Wormmon,” he said softly. He shifted until he was facing Wormmon, ignoring how V-mon snorted in his sleep and pressed into the curve of his knees. Daisuke reached out, rubbed gently between Wormmon’s antennas. Wormmon’s eyes closed in pleasure, pressing into the gentle caress. “What time is it?” 

“Past midnight,” Wormmon said, “Your parents will be worried.”

“I’m sure,” Daisuke said, tone thick with how much he believed the opposite. At this point, his parents were more than used to his strange hours. As long as he was home before they woke up, everyone just pretended nothing was going on. It was useful, in its own way. He yawned, feeling his jaw crack, and asked, “Where’s Ken?”

“Oh, he got up a while ago,” Wormmon said. There was concern layered in his voice; despite years of Ken’s strange hours driven by insomnia and workaholic tendencies, Wormmon still worried. 

Daisuke huffed again. “Figures,” he muttered. He sat up, scrubbed his hands over his face and through his hair. “Guess I should go drag him back,” he said at last and began climbing off the bed, taking care not to tread on V-mon and Wormmon as he moved.

“Oh, thank you,” Wormmon said, “He’s not listening to me right now.”

“No?” Daisuke asked, pausing on the edge of the bed as he considered the need for a shirt or shoes. 

“He’s anxious,” Wormmon said, voice lowering with his worry, “Because of how often you’ve used the panic button lately. And, well.”

“He works when he’s anxious,” Daisuke finished. He sighed, decided digging out a shirt was too much work when Ken was probably just in his private workshop. It was too early for him to be in the big lab outside the living area. He looked over his shoulder at Wormmon and grinned. “Honestly. Where would he be without us?”

Wormmon sighed, all warmth and affection, eyes glimmering with it. “Lost,” Wormmon said.

Daisuke shoved himself to his feet and stretched, groaning as sore muscles and bruises pulled. Carefully, he touched the edge of one bruise on his arm, where Taichi had managed to dig in an elbow just over his bracer. It was already going dark. He was going to be feeling that one for a few days.

He looked back at the bed, where Wormmon was crawling into the spot he’d left, eagerly soaking up the residual heat. V-mon grumbled at his absence, squirming about until he was pressed along Wormmon’s side. They both settled down immediately. Daisuke couldn’t help the sappy smile that slid across his face watching the two. 

He turned away, walked over to where his coat was crumbled on the ground. It only took a second to fetch his phone out of one of the pockets; the light from the screen didn’t blind him, if only because they kept the bedroom lit enough to see by even at night. He squinted, then said, a quiet, almost amused protest, “Ah, Wormmon, no.”

Well, 5 am _was_ technically after midnight.

He shook his head in amusement, dropped his phone back onto his coat, then slipped out of the bedroom. Time to figure out where his boyfriend had gotten to. All the lights outside the bedroom were on already. He paused in the hall briefly, just to check he was right; the familiar, constant beat of Ken’s heart pulled him left, towards Ken’s private workspace. Just as he’d thought. He started walking.

He padded barefoot through their living area, steps quiet against the hardwood, until he’d arrived at the workshop. He leaned against the open door, looked in; Ken was standing in front of the main computer, glaring at one of the schematics. Daisuke smiled helplessly at the sight of him.

Ken was still dressed in his pajamas, barefoot as well, without even his whip close at hand. His hair was left down and uncombed, tangled and messy. He looked soft in a way the war had burned out of both of them; Daisuke ached with it, full of more warmth and love than it seemed like his chest should be able to hold.

“Look at you,” he called. Ken didn’t start; startling each other was all but impossible these days. Still, Ken turned to look at him from beneath the curled fall of his hair. “Not even dressed yet and already working.”

Ken huffed at him, lips twitching upwards, and turned back to his computer. “At least I have a shirt,” he said.

Daisuke laughed quietly and walked over. Ken didn’t protest when Daisuke wrapped his arms around his waist, leaning against him and staring at the computer along with him. “What are you working on?”

“An idea. Don’t know if it's going to go anywhere. Not sure I have good materials for it,” Ken said, lips pulling down in frustration.

Daisuke smiled a little at his expression, pressed a quick kiss to his jaw just because it made Ken squirm. Ken twisted away with a small sound of protest, though he started smiling as well. Daisuke let him go, though Ken only turned to look at him fully. Ken ran careful fingers up his chest, over his arms, taking note of the appearing bruises, every time he flinched because the armour prevented injuries but he still ached from the force. “Keep touching me like that and we’re going to get distracted,” he said, despite the way he twitched away in pain. 

Ken hummed, eyes flickering to his with amused affection. “I’m tired of you coming home hurt,” he said after a minute.

Daisuke caught both his hands, held them steady. “It’s fine, Ken. I’m fine. Just a few bruises is all.”

“I was worried,” Ken said, “What would I do without you?”

“Crash and burn,” Daisuke said and he meant it as a joke, but Ken’s expression folded into pain. Daisuke sighed, tucked some of Ken’s hair behind his ear. “I’m fine,” he said again, leaning until their foreheads almost touched.

Ken’s expression softened. “Okay, I get it. You’re _fine_.”

Daisuke grinned at him brightly, even as Ken pulled away and turned back to his work. Daisuke walked over until he could lean against Ken’s desk, ignoring the neatly stacked papers and the sharp look Ken sent him. After a second, Ken huffed annoyance, turned away from his computer again and collapsed in the chair next to Daisuke.

“The Chosen know about you now,” Daisuke said quietly. 

Ken’s head rolled against the back of his chair until he could look up at him. “So?” Ken asked.

“So? They’re going to start targeting you.”

Ken laughed a little, a short, disbelieving sound. “What can they do to me? They can’t even get to me,” Ken said and motioned to the base around them. The workshop, like most of the living area, didn’t have windows because they’d intentionally built the rest of the base up around it as protection. Getting this far in, past the mechanized defenses, the Ringed digimon, and their partners, was practically impossible. “Frankly, if they can reach me, they deserve to win.”

“I’m just, I think we should be careful,” Daisuke said, “They’re learning fast. They couldn’t even keep up with me two months ago.”

“Then we’ll learn faster. We always do. Or are you changing your opinion of Yagami?”

“No,” Daisuke said shortly, “She’s too soft. She’s gonna fold eventually. I give her another month.”

“Then there’s nothing to worry about,” Ken said softly. He leaned forward until he could grab the keyboard and pull it towards him; after a second, he pulled up the territory map. Daisuke glanced it over with a small surge of triumph, taking in just how much land they had despite the Chosen. “They can’t win. They _aren’t_ winning,” Ken said, “They can’t reach me. They’re certainly going to think twice about hurting you now. They’ll keep going after the towers, because that’s all they can do. And they can’t do it fast enough.

“The rate they’re pushing, all they’re doing is slowing us down. They’re not making enough of a dent to stop us.” Ken paused, shrugged carelessly, then continued, “We’re still winning, we’re still conquering more than they’re taking back. The war’s just going to take longer than we’d originally estimated.”

Daisuke sighed, wished he felt Ken’s calm indifference. “We don’t have time for that kind of campaign,” he said quietly.

Ken’s hand landed on his wrist, drawing his attention back up to Ken. Ken’s eyes were soft, but there was a steel beneath it. “We will. I have faith in you.”

Some of the knots tying in his stomach eased at the words. Daisuke sighed, caught Ken’s hand in his own and held it tight. “How long?”

“The newest report gives 7 months if we’re really unlucky. But the most reasonable estimate puts it closer to a year.”

Daisuke pulled Ken’s hand up until he could press a kiss to his knuckles, held his eyes as he did so. Ken smiled brightly in response. “I suppose I should get to work then,” Daisuke said, because even a year was not enough time. Forever wasn’t enough time.

He made to stand up, but Ken’s hand tightened around his, refusing to let him go. “You need to go home,” Ken said, gently chiding, “Before we both end up reported missing.”

“Ken,” he said.

“Daisuke,” Ken said right back, eyebrows arching up in demand.

Daisuke sighed. “Alright. _If_ you promise to head back to bed.”

“I’m working.”

“Wormmon’s worried.”

Ken’s face immediately softened at his words. “Oh, fine. I suppose a small nap wouldn’t hurt.”

“Thank you,” he said. 

Ken stood up from his chair, eyes glancing one last time over his project. Daisuke smiled, used his lax attention to catch him by the back of the neck and pull him down into a kiss. Ken made a surprised sound, one hand catching himself against Daisuke’s leg, before he softened and returned the kiss.

Daisuke let Ken pull back after a few seconds, enjoyed the soft, dazed look in his eyes. “I’ll be back after class,” he promised.

Ken hummed, smile twitching at his mouth, eyes still on Daisuke’s lips. “Alright. I’ll see you then.”

Daisuke smiled, pressed another quick kiss to his lips, and began to get ready to head home.

*****

Once again, the Chosen gathered at the Yagami’s apartment. While waiting for everyone to arrive, they sat around, complained jokingly about bruises and pulled muscles and all the injuries that felt worse the next day. Taichi asked Jou at least four times when he could take off his sling. Hikari bit her tongue on apologies, because their tone was mostly joking and she didn’t think they’d like it if she did.

Koushiro arrived carrying his computer bag and another bag that looked full of even more papers, fit to bursting. He was juggling both bags and a cane, which he used with a heavy limp. Both Iori and Miyako immediately jumped up to help him; Koushiro looked up over their heads at Taichi, smile curled in amusement.

“Suddenly I’ve turned 70,” Koushiro said, tone light and joking. Iori and Miyako both blushed.

“Come on old man,” Taichi called, reflecting that smile. Hikari relaxed, heavy with relief; he was doing so much better today. “Sit down with the rest of us.”

It was only a few minutes more before the last of them came in, sitting down and taking a few minutes to talk. Then Taichi sighed and said, “So,” and that was all it took to catch everyone’s attention. Hikari wished she could do that. “Ichijouji Ken.”

“I looked into him,” Koushiro said, and began pulling papers out of his bag, computer already set up.

Taichi blinked over at him, once, twice. “You did?”

“Yeah,” Koushiro said and didn’t look at her, “It’s what I do.”

“And?” Takeru asked curiously, “Find anything?”

Koushiro sighed and kept pulling papers out of his bag. Curiously, she pulled one stack towards her. An interview, she realized, talking about some chess tournament Ichijouji had competed in. He looked maybe 13 in the picture. “I did,” Koushiro said, “And I’m not sure if I’m impressed or terrified. The amount of work he could accomplish in a month, well, frankly, I’m not sure he sleeps.”

“I was pretty sure he didn’t,” Taichi muttered.

“He’s a genius by whatever parameters you care to use,” Koushiro said, ignoring Taichi, “He’s been breaking test scores since he was 7, but he really started getting attention around 9, 10.”

“He and Daisuke met when they were eight,” Taichi said, “It was just before Ichijouji got really famous.”

“How did they meet?” Hikari asked. 

“Soccer game,” Taichi said, eyes going distant and thoughtful, “Our teams had a practice match against each other. Ichijouji had just gotten into the sport, so he wasn’t quite unstoppable yet, not like he became. But I remember, no one could keep up with him that day.”

“No one but Motomiya?” Yamato asked, voice knowing.

“Daisuke wasn’t even supposed to be there,” Taichi said. His expression was equal parts frustration and fondness. “The weather that day was shit. It was cold, about to rain any second. Daisuke was already sick, he should have just stayed home that day. But, no, that’s not Daisuke. He only did three plays, but that last one... He managed to stop Ichijouji in his tracks. Only one who could. Coach pulled Daisuke after that, was worried about him developing pneumonia.”

“Suppose Ichijouji remembered that,” Sora said.

“For a year,” Taichi agreed, “Next time they played each other, Ichijouji remembered him. And when Daisuke managed to do it again, well, they’ve been friends since. Started dating when they were 13.”

“Romantic,” Mimi said, though her voice was dry.

“It was at the time,” Taichi said, grimacing his way through the words.

Koushiro, who’d been shuffling through papers while Taichi talked, pulled out what looked like a newspaper article. He slid it to the center of the table for them all to see. “Ichijouji Ken set to face best friend and rival Motomiya Daisuke in soccer finals,” she read off. She scanned the rest of it, eyes catching on phrases like “ _...The Rocket Ichijouji, currently undefeated_...” and “ _...rising soccer star Motomiya Daisuke_...” and “ _...five year long rivalry…_ ”.

“It was all like that,” Taichi said, staring down at the paper, “It was pretty much agreed that the only one stopping Ichijouji was Daisuke. There was a big uproar among the players for a while because everyone expected them to go to the same high school, play on the same team.”

“Can’t imagine why they’d be upset about that,” Yamato muttered, voice bitter with experience.

Miyako reached past her, grabbed the first stack of papers and began to flip through them. “Soccer, chess, European fencing, martial arts, math club, engineering, computer programming,” Miyako paused in her read off to look up at Taichi and Koushiro in bewilderment. “Is there anything he didn’t do?”

Taichi shook his head. 

“When I said, a genius by any parameter you care to set, I meant it,” Koushiro said. He paused before adding, “I also meant the not sleeping part.”

“That’s not counting the interviews, the news segments, the random paparazzi,” Taichi listed off, “Mostly I remember Ichijouji as exhausted. That whole last year. Tired, all the time.”

“He paid for it too,” Koushiro said, “Burned himself out.”

Taichi paused, looking over at him. He sounded startled when he asked, “He did?”

Koushiro nodded. “Took a bit of digging, they kept it pretty quiet. But Ichijouji was in the hospital about two months before his disappearance. Few reports on it I could find said health problems related to long-term stress and physical exhaustion. He ran himself into the ground.”

A thoughtful look took over Taichi’s face just before he said in realization, “That would have been around the time he quit soccer.”

“He quit a lot of things. The official line was that he was refocusing his attention on other projects.”

“Like being the Kaiser?” Iori asked.

“Actually as far as I can tell, he would have already been active as the Kaiser before that,” Koushiro said, “Fighting the war on top of everything was probably the linchpin that made him burn out. After that he had to choose his priorities.”

“And he chose the Digital World to the point he ran away and let everyone think he was dead,” Takeru said then added with false enthusiasm, “What a great guy.”

It made her laugh a little, which was echoed by a few of the group. Takeru shrugged.

“I’ve been thinking about it,” Taichi said suddenly, “I made some assumptions before, but with the bigger picture, I think I’ve got the timeline figured out. Ichijouji’s disappearance would more closely coincide with Daisuke becoming the Knight, not Ichijouji becoming the Kaiser.”

Hikari thought about that for a minute then asked, “You said Ichijouji was in the hospital?”

“Only for a day or two,” Koushiro said.

“But it was two months before he disappeared?” She asked, and waited until he nodded, “Strabimon said the Kaiser vanished for two months during that first year, then came back with his Knight.”

“So he stops going to the Digital World for two months because he’s worn himself into the ground,” Takeru said, “And somewhere in that time, something happened to convince Motomiya-kun to join him.”

“Yeah,” Hikari said. She looked back up at Koushiro and asked, “Do we know anything else about him? His illness, his connection with the Digital World? Anything?”

“He wasn’t sick for that long,” Koushiro said and something about his expression had her narrowing her eyes at him. “It was just stress and exhaustion. As far as I can tell, he made a full recovery rather quickly.”

“And?” she asked, arching an eyebrow at him.

Koushiro sighed and went digging through his bag until he pulled out another picture. “And,” he said, sounding suddenly tired as he slid her the picture, “He’s one of us.”

“What?” Taichi demanded.

Hikari pulled the picture closer; it was a picture of Ichijouji standing outside his school, bag over one shoulder, smile the essence of bland politeness. Koushiro had circled his bag in red pen. Right in the middle of the circle, clipped to the strap of said bag, was a black D-3. “Hell,” she muttered in disbelief and handed the picture off to whoever wanted to see it.

“I tried to back track it,” Koushiro said, “See how long he’s been a Chosen. But it's impossible. I think the only reason the digivice is in that picture is because they surprised him outside of school. All his other public appearances, he’s much more careful.”

“So, that’s two of us who’ve gone completely off the rails,” Miyako said, false brightly. She sighed, shaking her head. “Wonderful.”

“Unfortunately, there’s no way to figure out when they stopped being Chosen and started being conquerors,” Koushiro said.

“So,” Takeru asked, sighing heavily, “What do we do now?”

“Well, if Ichijouji’s in the base and the base moves, we can’t exactly track him,” Hikari said, “And there’s no use going after Daisuke-kun if Ichijouji’s just going to come to his rescue.”

“Ah, no, I’m not touching Motomiya-kun. I like my arms where they are,” Miyako said, then glanced unsurely over at Taichi. “Sorry.”

Taichi shrugged, smiling without insult, and waved it off.

“I think the only thing we can do at this point is continue as we were before. Take down the towers. Free slaves. Keep working until they don’t have the resources to continue the war,” Hikari said.

Everyone traded looks, as if searching for another idea. After a minute, Takeru looked back at her and smiled. “Alright then. Let’s get back to work.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Neat fact: it was a toss up between the current chapter title and "But for Want of a Nail".


	10. Those Left Behind

The Ichijouji house was a quiet place. It hadn’t always been, had once filled to bursting with two growing boys; but that was years ago, before Osamu’s death, before Ken’s disappearance. It was still bright, warm colors and sunlight and open floor space, but it was quiet, like everyone was too afraid to speak loudly. It had always been a lovely home, but now it felt empty; it walls still echoed with Ken’s laugh. The shrine to Osamu stood by itself; there wasn’t one for Ken, because his parents refused to accept his death until they saw a body.

Visiting the Ichijouji’s every month had never been part of Daisuke’s plan, not really, not for three years. He’d planned to visit those first few months after Ken’s disappearance, to prevent suspicion, to give more credence to his appearance of mourning. Keeping the lie up of missing Ken, fearing for him, that had never been very difficult; even now, even knowing Ken was safe in their base, in the heart of their territory, the thought of losing him brought a bone deep chill, capable of developing into full blown panic in seconds. He only had to reach for that thought, that almost ever present fear, to create the most convincing lie for anyone watching.

And lying to the Ichijouji’s, even as they broke down in front of him, shaking about with real fear and real grief, made hollow with it? That had been easy at first too. He’d been so angry with them at the time. At how hard they’d worked Ken, at how sometimes it seemed they looked at Ken and only saw Osamu, at how they loved the prestige more than Ken himself. He’d been angry about it even before Ken’s disappearance, so lying hadn’t been difficult when he could tell himself what they missed was the fame and some shadow of their first son. 

Then those first few months had worn steadily on and he’d approached a year with the slowly sinking realization that no, they _loved_ Ken, fiercely and wholly, stood destroyed by the thought of anything happening to him. Lying to them became what was perhaps the only thing he felt guilty about. He’d hadn’t been able to walk away, slowly lessen his visits until they stopped, like he’d originally planned. He thought perhaps they needed him, some small spot of sunshine, some quick reminder of better days, so he kept going, once a month for three years.

There was something of a routine to each visit. Mrs Ichijouji met him at the door; she was shorter than him now, weighed down by grief that had aged her past her years, buoyed by hope that refused to shatter after three years. She was more grey than not these days, face wrinkled, shoulders bowed. Daisuke could remember, vividly, when she’d moved with a constant lightness, all smiles. She had given him more attention and direction than his own mother had when he was a child; he’d loved her so dearly for it, before it had gotten lost in Ken’s exhaustion, his own anger. A part of him wished he could go back to those times, when they’d been so young, before he’d been Chosen.

The three of them gathered in the living room, Mr Ichijouji already sat in one chair; he hadn’t fared the loss of his children any better than his wife. He sat quieter, thinner, older than he was, half of what he should have been. There was tea set out already, freshly made, the cup Daisuke had prefered since he was 9 waiting on the tray. Then they’d talk, for hours, for as long as they could until Daisuke had to catch his train home.

“Are you alright?” Mrs Ichijouji asked as they walked in, eyes on his face in concern, “You look tired.”

“I have a lot of projects going right now, so I haven’t been getting much sleep.” He smiled, aimed to comfort. “Don’t worry, I’ve already planned a rest day.” Which was today, as soon as this visit was done; he was going home to Ken, collapsing in their bed, and not moving until dinner.

Some of the tension along her face softened as they sat down. Daisuke greeted Mr Ichijouji warmly before sitting down, leaning forward to fix himself the waiting tea. “We heard about your game,” Mrs Ichijouji said, voice quiet but warm, eyes sparkling with something like pride. “You did so well.”

“We had been planning to go,” Mr Ichijouji said, “But, I caught a cold.”

“I would have enjoyed that,” Daisuke said, though internally he winced, remembering the heat of Hikari’s glare, the itch of Ken’s lurking in the shadows. How easily everything could have fallen apart that night. That it hadn’t rested solely on his own good fortune. “Maybe next time.”

“Oh, definitely,” Mrs Ichijouji said, and some long sleeping spark shone again in her eyes, “It’s always a delight watching you play. We’d come to more if we could, but most of them are so far away.”

“I know,” Daisuke said. The tea was warm in his hands and he couldn’t help but run his thumb over the faded designs, almost gone from age. Then he looked back up at them and smiled his most charming. “Scores came out. I’m third in my year.”

Mrs Ichijouji clapped, expression equal parts excitement and pride. “Oh, we knew you could do it.”

Daisuke warmed with the praise, ducked his smile into his tea. “I probably could have snatched first, but well, the classes are so boring.”

Mr Ichijouji snorted, nothing but amusement, and grinned back at him. “You find everything boring.”

“I like soccer,” Daisuke protested and didn’t add _and fighting_ because that wasn’t something they needed to know, even if it was true. School had never been his thing but after everything had started making sense in middle school with Ken’s help, it had stopped being even frustrating. It was boring, knowing he could solve the problems faster than his teachers. But battle, chance and luck and 360 degrees of options, Daisuke thrived in battle. “Though maybe I should have gone to that fancy high school near here after all.”

Mrs Ichijouji’s expression went soft, sad, bittersweet with memories. “I remember you two looking into high schools.” she said in a quiet voice, eyes focused to his left, where Ken would have once sat. Daisuke closed his eyes on the wave of guilt, washed down his own nostalgia with the last of his tea. He could still remember as well, the weekends Ken and he had spent researching high schools in Tamachi and Odaiba, trying to find one that fit both their needs. They’d narrowed it down to one here in Tamachi, had studied extensively to pass the exam, so intent on going together; they’d had so many plans. But by the time Daisuke had entered high school, Ken had been living in the Digital World and Daisuke hadn’t wanted to do it without him.

If they had never been Chosen, they could have had all those plans.

Daisuke forced that thought away, buried the mounting anger that always accompanied thoughts of the Digital World until it laid muted in the pit of his stomach. Not gone, never gone; it had been so long since he hadn’t been angry. He refocused on the Ichijouji’s in time to hear Mr Ichijouji say, “Still, you needed your friends back then.”

 _Ken’s the only friend I had_ , Daisuke thought and didn’t say. “It did help,” he said, smiling winningly.

“Have you made up with that friend of yours?” Mrs Ichijouji asked. Her attention was on the almost healed cut on his lip, the yellowing bruise his short sleeves revealed. There was worry clear on her face; she worried perhaps more than Ken did, fussed over every bruise and split knuckle.

“Mm, no,” Daisuke said, perhaps without the necessary gravitas. The Chosen weren’t even talking to him these days, in the human world. And in the Digital World, they avoided him whenever they could. But, well, that was to be expected now; no one smart underestimated a threat from the real Kaiser. When Daisuke had worn the title, they’d ignored his threats for the most part, but he could admit freely he didn’t wear it nearly as well as Ken did. Ken owned it; for Daisuke, it was just another mask.

“Don’t worry about it too much, Daisuke-kun,” Mr Ichijouji said, “You’re a good kid. I’m sure everything will turn out alright.”

Daisuke thought about Taichi’s face, heartbroken and betrayed; about Takaishi glaring at him poisonously whenever they crossed paths; about the circles around Hikari’s eyes, the slump of her shoulders, her every wince when she was called princess, her slow, guided implosion from stress and doubt; about how terrible this war had the potential to become. “I’m sure too.”

“How is your sister doing?” Mrs Ichijouji asked.

“Oh, having the time of her life in university,” Daisuke said blithely. He smiled, real and honest and affectionate, at the memory of her most recent phone call. “I could do with a little less info about her new boyfriend.”

There was always a new boyfriend with Jun. He teased her about it with the same mercilessness she had once teased him about Ken. He missed having her near, as loud and annoying as she so often was, but he was glad she was having fun in Aichi.

They kept talking: about Daisuke’s projects in school; his team’s chances this season and the competition; how his own parents were doing (Daisuke hid a laugh at how indignant they got about his parents’ disinterest. He considered, not for the first time, telling them he didn’t return home until 2 or 3 in the morning and no one cared. But well, _they_ wouldn’t let him get away with that. That they lived in an entirely different district wouldn’t matter.).

His phone beeped twice, loudly, drawing his attention. Conversation cut off, the following silence almost oppressive; Mrs Ichijouji’s face fell, making him grimace guiltily. “I’ve got to catch my train home,” he said quietly, like they didn’t all know what that alarm meant.

“Of course, of course,” Mr Ichijouji said, standing up, though the resolution didn’t match the pain in his eyes. “It was good to see you again, Daisuke-kun,” he said, so overly formal now, like he was bracing himself against pain, “Good to know you’re doing well. We’ll see you again soon?”

“Of course,” he promised, reaching forward to shake his hand, “I enjoy these visits.”

“I’ll show you out,” Mrs Ichijouji said, standing and smoothing out her skirt. Her smile was fixed in place, most of the light gone out of her eyes.

“You don’t have to,” he said, even as he allowed her to settle a gentle hand on his arm as she walked him to the door.

“It’s fine,” she assured, still attempting to smile bravely as Daisuke stepped outside. 

Daisuke paused, looked back at her to give his own smile. “I’ll be back,” he said, bowed a little, waved, and turned to leave.

“Daisuke-kun.”

Daisuke turned back in surprise. Mrs Ichijouji smiled at him from the doorway, except it wasn’t a smile, not really; was pain and grief mixed together with a sweet fondness. Daisuke stepped towards her in concern, anxiety swirling up, because she looked a little like she was about to cry. “Thank you, Daisuke-kun.”

Daisuke froze. “Um?”

“Really, thank you,” Mrs Ichijouji said, “I’ve never said that, have I? It’s just… your visits, they’ve been a godsend. You’ve made everything so much easier. And the way you talk about Ken-chan… these three years have been so hard, but. You’ve kept me from losing hope. I don’t know how I would have done this without you.”

Daisuke walked back to her, gently took her hands in his. “I’m glad I was able to make this a little easier,” he said, making his smile soft and small and gentle, “And I promise you, it doesn’t matter how long it is, I am never giving up on Ken.”

*****

After the long train ride back to Odaiba, Daisuke ducked into his apartment only long enough to grab Chibimon. He’d left Chibimon at home, since he’d planned to spend most of his day in Tamachi with the Ichijouji’s, where the Chosen wouldn’t pose a threat to him (not that he thought the Chosen would dare try to pose a threat these days). The rest of the apartment sat empty and silent, his parents still working; Chibimon startled awake when he entered his bedroom, not wasting a second before he started his computer. Chibimon sat up, rubbing one eye and yawning hugely. “How did it go?” he asked, voice rough with sleep.

Daisuke glanced over his shoulder at Chibimon, smiling despite the tightness in his chest. “It went fine. It always does,” he assured, nevermind guilt swam uneasily under his skin. He’d never felt exactly good about lying to Mrs Ichijouji’s crying face, but it had been a long time since he’d felt actual guilt about the things he’d done. 

“That’s good,” Chibimon muttered, already starting to curl back up to sleep. As much as Daisuke understood, he really did want to see Ken before he collapsed himself. Oh well, it wasn’t like he didn’t know how to wake V-mon up.

“Want to go see Wormmon?”

Chibimon, adorably predictable, unashamed about having clear favorites, immediately sat up again, eyes bright and clear of sleep. “Really? We’re going straight there?”

Daisuke nodded, finished pulling up the Gate program, checking that the exit was set from the base. “Yeah, I don’t want to hang around here anymore,” he said and held out a hand for Chibimon to jump towards. Chibimon landed in his hold easily and Daisuke immediately swooped him in so he was tucked safely against his chest. That done, they disappeared into the Digital World.

Wormmon was waiting for them in the base. V-mon wiggled out of his hold as Daisuke shoved himself to his feet again, running over to where Wormmon laid curled up in Ken’s chair in the control room. V-mon jumped up to join him, so bright and cheerful and relaxed now that they were home. 

“Yo, Wormmon,” Daisuke greeted, stretching, mirroring V-mon’s ease. He was back in the long-sleeved black shirt and jeans that were under his armour; both said armour and coat were absent, since he rarely bothered wearing them inside the base.

“Daisuke-kun,” Wormmon greeted, though most of his attention was on V-mon, currently curled over his back bonelessly. 

Daisuke turned away from the two briefly, using the control room computers to pull up the map of their territory. It looked almost the same as when he’d left, plus some added infrastructure to their newly acquired territories in the north; the Chosen had made a small change in the west, a few towers lost here and there, but not in any large numbers. _The positioning, though_ , he thought, eying their movements thoughtfully. They were circling Full Metal City, chipping away at the Empire’s control there. _Losing that area would be bad_ , Daisuke thought, already rearranging their forces to better hold the territory until Daisuke himself could get over there and take control of the situation.

Full Metal City had been one of the strongholds of the initial Digimon resistance; the resistance had broken there, lost any sense of organization and tactics. But breaking their walls had taken months of effort, had worn the Empire to a standstill. It was doubtful the Chosen knew that history, but if the city was reclaimed, it only made sense to once again establish it as a stronghold for their digimon allies. 

So Daisuke sent out commands through the Rings, until their forces were more closely situated around the key points for that area. That done, and mental note to handle it later firmly in place, he turned back to V-mon and Wormmon. “Everything going okay here?” he asked.

Wormmon nodded. “Most of the operations Ken-chan had planned finished today. They went really smoothly.”

“That’s great. And you two?”

“I’m fine,” Wormmon said, and there was a bright look to his eyes that went a long way to backing it up. “I’ve been keeping an eye on things up here. Ken-chan’s in his big lab right now. He’s ordered most of the slaves out, but he probably wouldn’t mind you dropping in.”

“Thanks, Wormmon,” he said. He walked over, rubbed briefly between Wormmon’s antennas. “I’m gonna go say hi, then take a nap, alright?”

Wormmon nodded, V-mon waving at him lazily, apparently content to restart his nap where he was. Daisuke huffed at them both, amused and affectionate, and started for the lab. 

Ken was inside, as promised, still bent over his work; he was the only one in the lab, even those slaves kept nearby to fetch him things having been sent away. Ken stood absent his coat, which had been thrown over one of the tables nearest him; his sleeves had been rolled to the elbow so as not to interfere with his work. Everything else was still in place, even his whip at his hip, his sunglasses being used as eye protection. Ken’s head turned briefly at the sound of Daisuke’s boots, eyes hidden behind his sunglasses. “Daisuke,” Ken greeted warmly as he turned back to his work. There was a pause, then Ken added, voice too serious, “I need a particle accelerator.”

Daisuke stopped walking, eyebrows shooting up as he ran that sentence over in his mind. “Okay, sure,” he said after a minute, “I’ll just, drop by Tsukuba on my way home, ask if we can borrow their collider. Or, should I just skip straight to the big one in Geneva?”

Ken’s shoulders heaved in a sigh and he pushed his sunglasses up into his hair. Then he turned around to look at Daisuke; he didn’t bother saying anything, just made his eyes big and imploring.

“No,” Daisuke said firmly, “You’re not building an accelerator.”

Ken whined, turning back to his work with a disappointed look that made Daisuke laugh a little under his breath. He walked to Ken’s side, looking over his work curiously. There was a small, open container on the table Ken was working at; Daisuke peered inside, eyebrows shooting up when he saw what was inside.

“What are you doing with Huanglong ore?” Daisuke asked, picking up one of the two small samples inside the container; Ken was already working with the third. Daisuke blinked down at the piece he held, surprised by the weight, and carefully rolled it between his hands.

Ken took it from him with an annoyed look. “Do you know how rare this is?” he asked, holding up the sample, “Please don’t play with it.”

Daisuke grinned back unrepentant. Then he looked down at the tools sprayed out across the table. “Well, if I’m not allowed to play with it, what are you doing exactly?”

“Testing it,” Ken said. He set the sample back in the container, eyes on the one he was working on. He looked vaguely annoyed, tension around his eyes.

“How’s it going?” he asked, leaning carefully against the table. 

Ken shrugged one shoulder. “Slowly,” he admitted, beginning to tug off his gloves, giving Daisuke his full attention. “Not sure yet if it's going to be of use to me in the amounts we can find it.”

“Even with all our mines?” he asked. Ken nodded and started to roll down his sleeves; Daisuke glanced down, eyes drawn reflexively to the movement of Ken’s hands, and stopped short when he saw one was wrapped in bandages. “Hey, wow, what happened?” he asked, carefully grabbing the injured hand by the wrist.

“Oh it’s nothing,” Ken said, but didn’t bother to shrug him off, “I was messing about with one of the computers upstairs. Didn’t pay attention. Cut myself on the insides.”

Daisuke didn’t say anything beyond the raise of his eyebrows but Ken still huffed at him. “What? Those things are sharp,” Ken muttered, half indignant, half embarrassed.

Daisuke looked back down at the hand in his grasp, examined the bandages, tried to remember the last time Ken had been that careless. Finally, he pressed a careful kiss to Ken’s palm, then gave him his best smile. “Well, alright then.”

Ken tugged his hand free at last, turned back to his work only to begin packing it away. “I need a break. I’m not getting anywhere.” 

Daisuke smiled a little, turned away to pick up Ken’s coat for him. He wasn’t really surprised when sound behind him stopped before Ken stepped up behind him, wrapped both arms around his waist, and buried his head between his shoulders. He could feel the heavy sigh Ken let out against his back. “Day that bad?”

“Infuriating,” Ken muttered, “Lab tests aren’t getting the results I want and those Chosen keep poking at things they should leave alone.”

“Yeah, I saw the map,” Daisuke said, “Moved some troops around. I’ll handle it soon.”

Ken nodded. “Mm, thank you. Was your day better?”

“Went to see your parents.”

Ken pulled away immediately. Daisuke turned, Ken’s coat thrown over one arm, to see Ken watching him with an expression of disinterest, vague irritation. “And how was that?” he asked, though his tone was far from curious.

“They’re holding it together,” he said, because that was about as optimistic as one could get about the Ichijouji’s. “They miss you.”

Ken snorted. “They’re just upset they don’t have a third son to replace me with,” he said, voice bitter.

Daisuke didn’t argue, because he knew Ken wouldn’t listen. Honestly, when Ken had first left the human world, he would have agreed. It hadn’t been until the months wore into years that he’d realized the truth. He didn’t think Ken would believe him, not without seeing it, and there would be no talking Ken into returning to the human world.

Ken shook his head as if to ward off the subject. The irritation left the lines of his face and he sighed. “Didn’t you say yesterday you were going to rest today? You look exhausted.”

“Wanted to see you first,” Daisuke said.

The last of the irritation left Ken’s face for a fond smile. “And so you have. Come on, let’s get you to bed,” Ken urged, reaching for his coat.

Daisuke let him have it, walking with him to the door. After a second, Ken muttered, “I really could use that accelerator.”

“No,” Daisuke said again, enjoying the annoyed flick of Ken’s eyes towards him.

“I don’t need your permission.”

“No, you don’t,” Daisuke agreed.

Ken sighed next to him. “Honestly,” he huffed, sounding annoyed, though there was affection in his eyes he couldn’t hide. Daisuke laughed a little, leaning over to shove their shoulders together briefly. 

Before long, they arrived at the living area; the area was a small subset of rooms, closed off from the rest of the base but for two entrances. The rest of the palace sat undecorated, metal walls and floors, designed for defense, almost industrial looking. The living area was the opposite: hardwood floors and bright colors, walls full of their partners’ drawings; there weren’t many windows, but there were lights everywhere, in softer, warmer colors than the rest of the base. Most of their private rooms were in the area: the bedroom and bathroom, the kitchen, living room, the studies. No slaves were allowed inside the area.

Weight fell from Ken’s shoulders as soon as they crossed through the door, the tense lines around his eyes easing, a feeling with which Daisuke could emphasis. Daisuke kicked off his boots at the genkan as Ken hung up of his coat and tugged the sunglasses out of his hair. 

Daisuke collapsed onto the bed as soon as he entered the bedroom, burying his face in the nearest pillow. “Should’ve joined Vee for his nap earlier,” he muttered.

The bed shifted as Ken sat down next to him. “Rest,” Ken urged, “I’ll wake you up for dinner.”

Daisuke made an agreeing sound, turning until he could throw himself bodily across Ken’s lap. Despite Ken’s immediate, answering sigh, a hand began running through his hair; Daisuke grinned and let himself begin to drift off.

*****

Daisuke awoke to V-mon shoving at his shoulders. The bed next to him was empty of Ken, not that that was surprising; Ken wasn’t big on naps for all he never got enough sleep.

“Daisuke,” V-mon urged, “Come on, you gotta wake up.”

Daisuke groaned, tried to roll over away from his partner’s probing. “No,” he whined, “This is just payback for waking you earlier.”

“Ken’s in trouble,” V-mon said.

Daisuke was fully awake immediately, heart in his throat. He rolled to the edge of the bed, stumbled a little as he tried to get his feet under him, and began running for the bedroom door.

“He’s in the kitchen cooking,” V-mon added as Daisuke managed to awkwardly fumble the door open.

Daisuke paused briefly, beginning to deflate, actually feeling a little woozy as some of the panic eased out. “Oh, that’s… that’s just as bad!” he realized as V-mon’s words fully sank in. He started running again immediately.

“He’s gonna kill us all!” V-mon shouted after him, just before Daisuke heard the little ‘mon collapse into laughter.

Daisuke didn’t stop running into he slid into the kitchen. He kept moving at a somewhat slower jog as he took in the scene: Ken stood in front of the stove, spoon in one hand, giving one of the pots a wary look. Daisuke managed to just barely not barrel into him, instead catching him about the waist and using the momentum to spin them both away from the stove.

Ken yelped in surprise as he was briefly lifted off his feet and spun, only to be set down to a face full of Daisuke. Ken stared at him in surprise for a second, then glanced at the way Daisuke had come, all confusion. “Where did you even come from?” he asked.

Daisuke ignored the question to give Ken a look of his own. “What are you doing?” he asked back.

There was a second of silence before Ken said, “Well, I was going to make you dinner.”

Daisuke reached out, took the spoon Ken still held, trying to smile and aware it came out thin and disbelieving. “Oh, love, no,” he said quietly. Still mostly hanging onto Ken’s waist, he reached over and turned off the stove.

“I’m not that bad,” Ken said testily.

“Debatable.”

Ken scowled at him, which didn’t fade in the slightest when Daisuke pressed a kiss to the corner of his jaw, trying to grin winningly. “I can cook,” Ken insisted.

“There are still scorch marks from last time,” Daisuke, pressing another kiss to the other side of his face.

“It was a legitimate experiment,” Ken said, probably aiming for haunty, except his words broke in amusement as Daisuke began to pepper quick kisses all over his face. 

“It really wasn’t,” Daisuke said, before sliding both hands up Ken’s back and pulling him in for a proper kiss. Ken softened into the kiss, hand at his jaw angling Daisuke's face up better.

Ken pulled away after a few seconds to squint at him and mutter, “You’re distracting me on purpose.”

“Yes,” Daisuke agreed with another quick peck, “Is it working?”

Ken laughed and held up both hands in surrender. “Oh, fine. I was thinking that fish you brought yesterday.”

“Sounds wonderful,” Daisuke said, pulling away from him so he could begin cooking. Ken sat down at the counter, content to watch him work, peaceful smile on his face. “Do you want to eat here, or out in the dining room?”

“Oh, here’s fine,” Ken said. Daisuke saw Ken’s head turn away out of the corner of his eye just before the other boy asked, “Vee, why are you hiding by the door?”

Daisuke looked over, found his partner was indeed half hiding in the hallway, peering in at them. When he saw he had Daisuke’s attention, he asked, “Is it safe?”

Ignoring Ken’s huff, Daisuke waved V-mon inside. “It’s fine, Vee. You want some fish?”

“Chocolate?” V-mon asked instead, running over and climbing into the seat next to Ken.

“Fish,” Daisuke said firmly, “Take it or leave it.”

He turned away to begin preparing the rest of the meal, noticed V-mon had turned away from him to look at Ken imploringly. Ken didn’t look at the ‘mon when he reached over and scratched his nails between V-mon’s ears. V-mon melted immediately, eyes squeezed tight in glee, grin huge. Daisuke met Ken’s eyes, matching the amusement he saw there; Ken shrugged back at him.

“Where’s Wormmon?” Ken asked, pulling his hand back. 

V-mon huffed as the attention stopped, slinking down in his chair. “He said he was going to be right in. He wanted to make sure those shipments were organized for you.”

“He’s starting to work harder than I am,” Ken muttered, concern in the corners of his eyes, the pinch of his mouth.

“Must be hard without Vee here to drag you both off to play,” Daisuke said. That had been the task Daisuke had originally asked of V-mon, before he’d started having to take him with him to the human world every day. Ken worked too hard and Wormmon tried to help as much as he could, but, well, Wormmon would do anything for Ken; sometimes that meant obeying orders instead of holding his ground and making sure they both got the proper rest. But V-mon, even when he acted silly or hare-brained, was always attentive to just how much they were all pushing themselves and made sure they got their needed rest.

“We do miss him on slow days,” Ken said, which earned him V-mon’s biggest grin.

It took a few minutes for Wormmon to appear; when he did, Ken immediately swooped down, picked him up, and deposited Wormmon in his lap. “Break time,” Ken said softly.

Wormmon made a happy noise of contentment, settling easily into Ken’s lap with a smile. “Oh, good,” Wormmon said, “I’m very tired.”

“The rest of today is resting,” Daisuke said firmly, “And then tomorrow we fix whatever the Chosen are breaking now.”

*****

The war continued on.

Days and weeks of battle crawled by, pockmarked by team meetings, endless theorizing and planning, Hikari’s exhaustion ever growing. Despite concerns that the Kaiser, with his presence finally revealed, would begin joining Daisuke in battle, Ichijouji was nowhere to be seen. He stayed hidden in his fortress, where no one could reach him. Still, his absence did little to lessen the looming shadow of his threats; no one wanted to risk injuring Daisuke too much and drawing the Kaiser’s ire.

So Hikari sat down with Koushiro, with Tentomon, with the slowly growing network of digimon no one wanted to actually call spies. “Find me targets,” she ordered with a hard-edged steel she’d never credit herself as possessing, “I can’t keep focusing on Daisuke-kun. These two have a whole Empire to take down and I can’t keep picking off small targets in the middle of nowhere. I want to know what they can’t afford to lose and then I want to destroy it.”

Strongholds full of soldiers waiting to be deployed, supply depots, the biggest factories, all began to fall slowly across the map. While the team didn’t breach the area considered the very heart of the Empire, they abandoned keeping to the borders, instead punching holes wherever they felt needed. They tried to keep the skirmishes short, in and out quicker than even Daisuke and XV-mon could respond; and if the two did arrive, the team retreated and refocused on a different target. There was no sense, anymore, in fighting XV-mon when his defeat would only result in the Kaiser’s appearance. Better the battles they could win.

Taichi watched from the sidelines as the war continued, frustrated and tired and _useless_. He tried to be positive, to throttle his emotions down where the others couldn’t see, to not be a burden. Hikari had so much on her plate already, he didn’t want her worrying about him to. And his outbursts, those moments where he couldn’t keep bottling it up, he tried to contain those moments to Yamato and Sora’s presence and no one else’s.

His wounds healed eventually. Jou removed his sling, returning to him his full range range of movement; his head wound healed, leaving behind a scar that cut across his temple and into the line of his hair. He pretended he didn’t sometimes still see the Kaiser’s cold, furious eyes in his sleep, didn’t wake up in a cold sweat from it.

He didn’t talk to Daisuke again, couldn’t really bring himself to even look for the boy. It felt rather like he’d been hollowed out. The first reveal, knowing it was Daisuke behind the mask, that had hurt, yes, but there’d been anger there as well; now, looking back unable to say if anything of their friendship had been real, there was no anger. Just a gaping hole. He had no more words, no more arguments. There was no point going after Daisuke again when he wasn’t sure he’d be able to find any words.

Eventually word came in from Tentomon and Agumon that the Kaiser had started to show a lot of interest in one of the southern mines. Shipments from there had increased, both in quantity and in type. “It’s probable the Kaiser is preparing some new tech or experiment,” Koushiro said, upon relaying the information.

The team had already decided to target the mine, refusing to allow Ichijouji the time to gather resources for whatever his plan was, was Agumon reported that one of his friends had recently been Ringed and sent to the mine and Agumon _refused_ to let the Chosen attack the mine without him. And Taichi couldn’t let Agumon go alone.

So Taichi went with them.

*****

The free digimon that had volunteered to watch the mine met them a kilometer away from it. An Elecmon approached them as spokesperson, while the three behind him retreated a few steps, watching them warily. Taichi smiled tightly at the group, bitterness mixing with understanding in his chest. _Damn you Ichijouji_ , he thought harshly, stuffing his hands in his sleeves as Hikari stepped forward to meet Elecmon.

There were so many digimon these days that were wary of any human, even the Chosen. They’d pass on information, but put them in front of one of the Chosen and they started looking for escape routes. It hurt, even though he understood why it was that way, because he could still remember clearly when the Chosen had been a welcome presence, when they’d been looked to for help and hope. And Ichijouji had used that, then turned them all into symbols of fear.

“The Kaiser recently expanded the mine. It’s made it harder to infiltrate very deep, so we don’t have much information about the inner forces,” Elecmon informed immediately.

Hikari smiled, soft and warm and disarming, and said, “That’s fine, we understand. Do we have any idea what the Kaiser is after here?”

Elecmon shook his head.

Hikari nodded and if she was frustrated by the lack of information, she didn’t let it show on her face. “Alright. Well then, we can figure it out after we get the Empire out of here. Where’s the tower for this area and what are our chances of sneaking to it?”

“It’s unlikely we’ll be getting there without a fight. The tower itself is at the bottom of the ravine, hidden so it can’t be taken out from the air.”

“I’m sorry,” Takeru said, leaning forward a little to look at Hikari, “Did he just say ravine?”

“Plural, actually,” Digmon said..

“There are ravines,” Elecmon said, “The mines have been cut into theirs sides. The are multiple levels, connected by walkways and elevators, guards everywhere.”

Hikari nodded, biting her lip, expression hardening as she thought. “Anything else we should know?”

“There was an accident yesterday. It started as a mine collapse and snowballed outwards. It affected the entire northern side of the structure. The area is stable now, but most of the resulting damage is still being fixed. Wiring problems, chemical spills, some of the elevators are no longer secure. Most of it’s been marked out of bounds until it can be fixed, but the workers are still finding new damages. It's near enough to the tower that I’d advise you keep an eye out.”

“We understand, thank you,” Hikari said politely, then turned to face her team, “Well?”

“If we can’t sneak in, it's going to be a long battle,” Iori said, “And the terrain won’t be on our side at the end.”

“And if we take too long, there’s no way Motomiya-kun won’t show,” Takeru added.

Taichi bit down on his lip hard to hide the reflexive wince that came with Daisuke’s name these days, focused his eyes on the ground.

“If we can get into the ravine, wouldn’t the terrain be as much against him as it is against us?” Miyako asked.

“It would,” Hikari agreed, “We’d just have to get down there before he arrives.”

“It won’t work,” the Falcomon behind Elecmon said suddenly, “If we try to force XV-mon into such a narrow space, they’ll simply change to Fladramon. I’ve seen it happen before.”

“Ah, thank you. I wouldn’t have thought of that,” Hikari said, nodding to him, “We’ve never really forced that but the once since we fight in the skies as well.” Hikari paused again, expression thoughtful once more as she looked across the whole team then flicked her eyes over to their allies. “Say, if we act as a distraction, do the four of you have the firepower to take down a tower?”

There was a long pause, the four glancing between each other unsurely, probably more ill at ease with the person giving the plan than the plan itself. “The tower wouldn’t be a big problem with four of us, but surely you can’t hold off all the guards and the Knight, should he arrive.”

“Leave that to us,” Hikari ordered, smiling soft and reassuring, “We can handle ourselves.”

While Hikari took a step back to talk with her team quietly, Agumon hurried over to Elecmon. “I’m looking for a Gottsumon,” Agumon said, “He’s supposed to be in these mines.”

“There’s a lot of Gottsumon here. Good in the mines,” Elecmon said.

Agumon deflated. Taichi dropped to one knee next to him, settled a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry buddy. Once we take the tower down, he’ll be fine. We can find him after the battle.”

Agumon rallied easily, nodding in agreement.

Taichi smiled a little, turned to look at Hikari. It took another second of quick discussion between the team, then Hikari looked over at them. “If everyone’s ready, we’ll fly you all in.”

Though there were unsettled expressions on the free digimon at the prospect of flying, everyone agreed. Soon, they were in the air. 

The ravines came into view as they approached; there were two, which intersected towards their northern ends. The result was a deep ‘x’ like scar through the land that he doubted could be replicated in the human world. The ravines plunged into the ground, over 70 feet at their deepest points. Imperial machinery blanketed the yellowish stone: walkways spanned the ravines at regular intervals, from end to end, top to bottom; holes carved in the rock for freight elevators; various mining equipment Taichi didn’t know the purpose of.

The weather above the mines was sweltering. Taichi had to keep blinking sweat out of his eyes, though they burned no matter how many times he did it. It was actually getting a little hard to breathe through the heat.

Taichi wiped at the sweat clinging to the back of his neck, slanting a glance at Hikari. She didn’t seem to notice the heat; though it had plastered her hair flat to her head and her face was already bright red. Her attention never wavered from the mines below them, focused and sharp. “Taichi,” Hikari suddenly called, not turning to look at him, “We’re gonna fly low, set you down on that catwalk there.” She pointed. “We’ll distract the guards, keep them divided between us. You help Elecmon and his get to the tower. He knows the way.”

Taichi did not say he couldn’t see the tower, because there was a steel to Hikari’s voice he wasn’t used to, a look in her eyes that was not to be disobeyed. “Okay,” he said, a little stunned.

“If Daisuke-kun does show, and we can’t stop him,” Hikari continued, “I need you to hold his attention until Elecmon can take down the tower.”

“I understand,” he agreed.

He watched Hikari’s shoulders straighten, just before she raised her hand to signal her team; then they dove. Taichi clung to Hikari, half surprise, mostly terror as they quickly dropped the 100 or so feet to the mouth of the nearest ravine. Then Nefertimon’s wings flared, and they crested just above the catwalk. Felling a little like jelly, heart still pounding, Taichi nevertheless didn’t hesitate before he jumped down onto the catwalk. Agumon, then Elecmon and his group, joined him quickly after.

Nefertimon took off, soaring along the upper levels of the ravine, dodging between walkways and workers. Taichi stared after for a few seconds, stunned again. When had they gotten so fast?

Elecmon grabbed his attention as he began leading the group across the catwalk and into one of the mine shafts. Taichi followed, let him dictate direction, kept an eye out for the kaiser’s slaves. But alarms were already blaring; Taichi could hear the slaves running outside to confront the others. His group kept moving deeper, downwards.

After a bit, their group emerged into the sunlight again. They were probably just under half way down; Taichi could see the tower now, glittering darkly at the bottom, several dozens of feet to his left. Taichi looked up and up, through the spiderweb of walkways, to find the others. The four were separated, moving in different directions to divide the guards chasing them. They moved almost too fast for Taichi to track, ducking among obstacles without issue as the slaves crashed along in their wake, keeping mostly to the upper few feet, where everything was much less crowded.

“Come on,” Elecmon said, stepping further out. Taichi tore his attention away from the quasi-battle/chase to follow. “And be careful,” Elecmon added, “We’re moving into the damaged areas.”

There was, Taichi noticed as he stepped out on the catwalk, an odd smell to the air, almost chemical-like. Taichi wondered at it, the kind of chemicals one would use in a missing operations.

They were almost across the catwalk when a long, familiar shadow fell over the whole group and all thoughts of chemicals vanished. Taichi had a second of terror, to look up at the bright blue sky. Then-

XV-mon slammed into the catwalk. Taichi grabbed Agumon and threw himself for the mine shaft as the catwalk began to buckle under the sudden force. Taichi rolled into the dirt, looked back; realized those data strands under XV-mon’s claws was Falcomon, caught in the second before XV-mon hit and killed on impact. Taichi hadn’t even heard a scream.

There were screams now, from the other digimon with him, from the rest of the Chosen upon noticing Daisuke’s presence, from Shakomon as she fell with the crumbling catwalk. XV-mon hung in the air in front of them; Daisuke on his back, that terrible mask in place, gold eyes glinting at them dangerously.

Then Holsmon dove at XV-mon, grabbing his attention as they missed each other by inches.

Taichi watched as XV-mon twisted away, wings hitched close to move through the crowded space. As the others tried to wheel around to fight XV-mon as well, the guards closed in again, preventing them from getting close and cutting Holsmon off. XV-mon grinned up at Holsmon; Daisuke patted XV-mon on the shoulder, then jumped off his back for one of the catwalks. XV-mon charged at Holsmon immediately, moving easier between the obstacles without having to worry about his passenger. Without being on XV-mon’s back, Taichi also realized, Daisuke would be able to have XV-mon change to Fladramon quickly without having to worry about falling.

Taichi turned back at Agumon, Elecmon, and Lalamon. 

“He didn’t even bother with the others,” Agumon said.

“Yeah, he’s not an idiot. He knows we’re the ones going after the tower,” Taichi said. He glanced out again. Holsmon did seem to be keeping up with XV-mon, as they were both limited by the closed environment. He looked over at Daisuke, who was simply watching XV-mon fight without concern. “I think Holsmon has this. If we move for the tower now-”

“He’ll see us,” Lalamon interrupted, voice practically a whimper, eyes so huge. “He’ll switch to Fladramon if we go any further down.”

“I’ll distract him,” Taichi said, a bit before he’d really thought it through. He ignored the choked sound Agumon made in response. “If his attention’s on me, he won’t see you.”

“He’ll kill you,” Elecmon said.

Taichi thought about that; thought more about how far Daisuke and XV-mon would have had to dive to reach them, just how fast they would have to be going to give no chance to react. And, despite the fights going on in the upper levels, despite all the obstacles in their way, the two had flown through it and then hit tiny little Falcomon. Not Taichi or Agumon, the bigger, more personal threats, the much bigger targets when velocity dictated they needed an easy one. No, they’d deliberately hit the smaller, harder target, deliberately missed Taichi. Remembered what the Kaiser had said, that Daisuke didn’t want him dead. “He won’t hurt me,” Taichi said with assurance.

“Taichi,” Agumon said quietly, soft with concern.

“It’s fine,” He said. He turned back to Elecmon, who was shaking slightly, and Lalamon with her huge eyes. “I need you to be brave and keep going. Can you do that?”

There was a long moment, Lalamon’s eyes becoming wet, then Elecmon took a deep breath, steadied himself, and nodded. “We can do it. The digimon in this mine are depending on us.”

“Go,” Taichi ordered, “I’ll cover you.”

Taichi watched the two scamper off, deeper into the mine. Then he stood fully. “Agumon, you with me?” He asked. He smiled when Agumon nodded rapidly. “Let’s do this then.”

There were paths carved into the rock side as well, probably initial construction before the walkways were built. Taichi walked out onto one, avoiding what little remained of the catwalk as much as possible. There was enough room to move if he needed to run away, enough he wouldn’t have to worry about slipping, Taichi realized with some relief. He straightened, looked over at Daisuke. Daisuke stood on a catwalk a few feet above and to his left; his attention still seemed to be on XV-mon but Taichi doubted the boy didn’t see him. “Daisuke!” he shouted.

There was a moment where Taichi thought maybe Daisuke would ignore him, then Daisuke’s head turned towards. One hand reached up, hooked under the edge of Daisuke’s mask, and pulled it off. “Taichi,” Daisuke said back. 

It still stung, Taichi realized, still felt like a knife in his back, seeing again Daisuke’s face emerge from under that mask. Takeru had said Daisuke always took the mask off when he fought them, though other digimon got the full Knight image. _“He wants us to remember who we’re fighting,_ ” Hikari had said, “ _His identity is still his biggest weapon against us_.”

Words dried up in his mouth, as he’d feared would happen. Daisuke looked down at him, eyebrows arched, smile turning smug and mocking the longer Taichi went without a word. Finally, Taichi managed to choke out, “Ichijouji Ken.”

Daisuke’s smile grew until it dominated his face. He laughed, arms spreading wide. “Oh come on, Taichi,” he said, smile vicious, victorious, “You have to admit. I’m _good_.”

It took everything he had not to throw up in response. “I did everything!” he shouted, a little desperate, “Everything you asked. Everything I could think. And it was a lie. You were doing _this_.”

“If it makes you feel better,” Daisuke said, “I honestly didn’t know you were Chosen until a few months after the war started. So.” He shrugged.

“Why should I believe that?”

Daisuke paused, then shrugged again. “Yeah, okay, that’s fair.”

“And if it _was_ true,” Taichi burst out, “would it have changed anything? Would knowing I was Chosen from the start have stopped you from building your Empire?”

“Oi, it’s Ken’s Empire,” Daisuke said, shoulders hiking, like not giving Ichijouji his proper due was some great insult he wouldn’t stand for.

“Right, Ichijouji’s the Kaiser,” Taichi muttered, more poisonous than he meant. Daisuke’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “So, you’re, what, conquering and enslaving an entire world because your boyfriend has illusions of grandeur?”

“Ok, rude,” Daisuke said, “I do have my own reasons for doing this. My own goals. Ken’s empire just, provides the resources I need to accomplish them. And even if I didn’t, it’s not like I’d being jumping to this fucking world’s defense.”

Taichi froze a little, remembered Daisuke with the promise of destruction in his eyes, saying he’d watch the Digital World burn if he could. He gulped, tried to find something of the little kid he knew in the Knight’s furious eyes. There was nothing. “What did he do to you?”

There was a second where Daisuke didn’t immediately react, just stood there, frown developing, confusion sparking bright in his eyes. “‘He’?” Daisuke echoed, “You mean- Ken?” All the confusion drained out and the previous fury was nothing compared to what crossed Daisuke’s face now. “No, no, no. No, you do _not_ blame him for this. He is not responsible for the Digital World’s fuck ups. I will not let you do that.”

Daisuke whistled suddenly. Above him, Taichi heard the sound of battle above him dim suddenly; when he looked up, XV-mon was breaking off his attack on Holsmon, beginning a dive back down to their level. 

“Oh shit,” Taichi cursed, starting to run back for the mine shaft. Next to him, Agumon paused to build an attack, only he wasn’t facing off against XV-mon. 

Taichi caught a glimpse of Daisuke’s eyes going very wide up on the catwalk, just before Daisuke himself started running for the ravine wall. Taichi realized why suddenly, a second too late.

 _“Baby Flame!_ ”

“Agumon, wait!”

That Agumon hadn’t been aiming for Daisuke directly, had merely been trying to scare XV-mon off target, away from Taichi to his own partner, didn’t matter. In fact, it was worse. As it was, the attack swept through the air to what had been Daisuke’s left, continued past into the area Taichi could see, even from here, was cordoned off in warning signs. There was a second of nothing, a second of hope, then the fire ignited the chemicals still floating about the air. The resulting explosion funneled back to them rapidly.

The force sent Taichi back into the ravine wall, kept him there for several seconds. He barely maintained his footing. His skin felt too hot, the smoke burned down his throat, and it didn’t matter. He only had room to worry about the explosion and Daisuke. He raised his eyes hurriedly, saw that upper catwalk collapse in flames, saw Daisuke fall, a long streak of black plummeting bonelessly towards the ground.

“Daisuke!”

Taichi wasn’t sure who shouted, if it was himself, or XV-mon, or one of the other Chosen flying down. But the word echoed oddly in the ravine, again and again, inescapable. XV-mon continued his dive straight past him and Agumon, after his partner.

Taichi didn’t breathe again until he saw XV-mon begin to fly back upwards. He was holding Daisuke’s coat in one hand; it was burning, smoking, barely recognizable. Daisuke was cradled in his other arm, face bloody, eyes closed. Taichi couldn’t tell how serious his injuries were, how bad the burns. Only that he wasn’t moving and Taichi had never seen XV-mon look so worried.

XV-mon didn’t spare anyone another glance. He took off straight up and disappeared from sight, full attention on his unconscious partner.

There was a moment of silence, of Taichi desperately sucking in breaths, still plastered to the ravine wall. The other Chosen fell in around him, faces pale, battle forgotten.

“We’re dead,” Miyako finally said in a quiet, terrified little voice, “We are so dead.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up, but the next chapter is going to take a while because it is _loooong_. Please be patient, I'll have it out as soon as possible.


	11. Rules of War

Daisuke didn’t wake up at all on the way back to the base. He stayed unconscious the whole way, only occasionally making sounds of discomfort when XV-mon pushed a little too fast trying to get them home. It was probably a good thing, a small mercy, considering his wounds, but XV-mon would rather he wake up. That way XV-mon would know he was okay. 

Head wounds were bad in humans, right?

He shouldn't have left Daisuke, should never have put him down; he’d thought that the chaos of how the mine was structured would protect him, keep anyone from reaching Daisuke before he could respond. He hadn’t expected the explosion.

Oh god, an _explosion_ ; Ken was going to freak.

Daisuke moaned as they set down in the hanger, then settled again; XV-mon keened, couldn’t help it, clutching Daisuke to his chest as slaves came pouring out to help. There was a stand off for a second before he let them take Daisuke from him and bear him to the infirmary. XV-mon dedigivolved, then hurried after them. He stayed on their heels, refused to go more than the necessary distance from Daisuke if he could. 

Daisuke was set down on a table carefully and V-mon immediately scrambled up to join him; he perched on the edge, trying to be careful not to further disturb any wounds. Slaves continued to scramble around, trying to find supplies and set them out, a mess of movement that involved a lot of bumping into each other.

It was into that chaos Ken entered, a single, calm point. It was a false calm, V-mon thought, could almost see the fury hiding in the tense muscles. Even pretending at calm, Ken seemed to fill all the empty space around him, until every slave in the room was leaning away as if he was right in their faces. Even V-mon flinched back, though he knew Ken wouldn’t hurt him (because Ken loved Daisuke and Daisuke loved V-mon. And V-mon thought Ken maybe even loved him too). It felt weird, wrong, to be afraid of Ken, but also wrong not to be, because Ken’s fury was ice and patience, so very different from Daisuke’s wildfire.

There were knives in the human world that were so sharp you didn’t feel them slice inside until after the blade was removed. V-mon thought Ken was a little like that.

If Daisuke stalked when he was angry, Ken prowled; his mouth pressed thin, his hands clenched, eyes roving slowly over the assembled slaves like he was deciding on his victim. “Get out,” Ken ordered, voice soft and silky in the way that always preluded the plans that ended with dozens dead.

The slaves shuffled awkwardly, those who’d only planned to help with transporting Daisuke all but running as they obeyed. Ken ignored the commotion, stepping up to Daisuke’s side and carefully taking one of his hands. The other ran over Daisuke’s chestplate, taking in the new pockmarks, scratches, and small dents. Daisuke’s eyes fluttered weakly but didn’t open. All the same, Ken said, voice going so gentle it made V-mon’s chest ache, “It’s alright, I’m here.”

“Master,” one of the remaining slaves whispered hesitantly, “We can help-”

Ken’s expression hardened again; he straightened and V-mon shivered at the sheer blue glint of his eyes. Ken’s whip cracked through the air as it lashed at the slave’s cheek, then wrapped tightly around its throat. Ken used the whip to drag the slave forward, right into his face, then said, horfrost in his voice, “Get out.”

The slave nodded and the remaining ones all ran the second the whip was uncoiled again.

Ken stood still for a second, shoulders rising and falling rapidly. Then he got to work. Gloves and coat were removed; whip set aside; sleeves rolled back. Ken started undoing Daisuke’s armor, hands made steady from years of war; he deftly undid what straps he could, but V-mon could see some had been warped out of shape by the heat. The skin under them was red, black, smelt burnt in a terrible, thick way that clung to the back of his throat. V-mon whined, watched as Ken finished removing the armor as gently as he could, then cut Daisuke’s shirt to pieces, peeling it back from the burnt skin. 

V-mon asked in a wobbly voice, “Is he going to be okay?”

“Yes,” Ken answered immediately, voice still hard. His hands slid up into Daisuke’s hair, exploring, touch careful. “Most of the blood is from the head wound. It’s going to need stitches.” Ken’s hands moved down, feeling across Daisuke’s chest. “Armor caught the damage to his chest. There’s no punctures, but I think one of his ribs is broken.” Another moment of searching, then, “Mostly second-degree burns, his arms, neck, back. Some third-degree where there was metal against his skin.”

“His coat was on fire,” V-mon said, “I got it off as quickly as I could but…” He stopped, voice breaking, full of the memory of burnt leather and metal and skin, coppery blood, and the bite of chemicals from the mines.

“The burns are bad but they’re not far spread. It could have been much worse.”

V-mon’s eyes welled with tears, because Ken was still too angry to be soft enough to say V-mon had done well, but that was what he meant all the same.

“Ken-chan?” Wormmon called, voice so tiny. He was huddled in the doorway, attempting to stay out of the way, his eyes big and blue and watery. V-mon whined again, deep in his chest, hiccuping with tears. He wanted to go to Wormmon, because it was Wormmon and Wormmon took care of everyone and he took care of Wormmon; but going to Wormmon would mean leaving Daisuke.

He couldn’t. Daisuke had almost died last time he’d left.

The thought had V-mon sobbing louder, curling tight so he didn’t nuzzle against Daisuke like he wanted and worsen his wounds. Ken ignored his noise, acknowledged Wormmon only with a brief flick of his head. “I can- I can fix this,” Ken assured, voice only breaking for a second.

Ken very gently rolled Daisuke over so he could get at the burns on his back. V-mon thought the burns there were better, oddly white instead of charred; the brief loosening of tension around Ken’s eyes seemed to agree with him. All the same, he closed his eyes against the sight of Daisuke’s burnt skin, felt nauseous with even that brief glimpse. Wasn’t sure how Ken kept so steady, nothing but the tight press of his mouth and the too blue of his eyes showing he wasn’t calm.

“Wormmon,” Ken said, that silkiness back in his voice, “I want every bit of surveillance we have of that fight. Every angle, every second. Everything you can find.”

It took a second, then Wormmon nodded and some of the wetness left his eyes now that he had something to do, some way to help. “Yes, Ken-chan,” Wormmon said, then hurried off to do as bid.

“I’m sorry,” V-mon said, voice thin and small and he wanted to shrink under the sudden cut of Ken’s eyes towards him. “I never should have left him. I shouldn’t have.”

“V-mon,” Ken said, too much unyielding force. V-mon flinched a little with the use of his full name, because Ken hadn’t called him that since before the war, since even before Daisuke had also picked up the habit of simply _Vee_. Ken’s eyes were furious and unbending, voice that knife’s edge. “This is not on you.”

It took V-mon a minute to realize Ken wasn't angry with him, then he laid down on his side fully and cried in earnest.

It took hours before Ken was done, hands never faltering, though the stress started to appear in the lines of his shoulders, the circles around his eyes. V-mon never left, stomach bubbling with fear because if he left…

 _No_. No no no no no.

After Daisuke was more than half covered in bandages, after Ken had gently cleaned away all the blood and dust, the slaves came back and helped move Daisuke to their bedroom. Ken followed behind, glaring poisonously with every step they took inside the living area; V-mon clung to his heels, eyes never wavering from Daisuke’s limp form.

Daisuke was set gently on the bed; the slaves didn’t wait for an order this time before immediately fleeing. V-mon clamored up the bed to stare down out Daisuke. His breathing was mostly steady, V-mon thought, but he hadn’t responded to anything since he’d been set down in the infirmary. V-mon whined then carefully nudged his way under one of Daisuke’s arm, making sure not to mess with one of the many bandages along his arms. He settled with barely any space between him and Daisuke’s side, the weight of Daisuke’s arm heavy over his stomach. “Daisuke,” he whispered, tone mournful.

The bed shifted as Ken sat down next to him. V-mon shifted until he could tilt his head back to look at Ken, watched as Ken laid down almost as close as V-mon was. Ken lifted one hand to very gently run his fingers through what little of Daisuke’s hair wasn’t trapped beneath bandages. His expression was still too blank, frozen over with no place for gentleness. V-mon whined again, ducked back down under Daisuke’s arm.

“Ken-chan?” Wormmon called, coming into the room.

Ken rolled away so he could scoop Wormmon up into the bed with them, only to then immediately roll right back into position, Wormmon on his chest. Wormmon gave him the tablet he’d carried in, then crawled off so he could lay next to V-mon. “Are you okay?” Wormmon asked.

“It’s my fault,” V-mon whispered.

“Oh V-mon, no,” Wormmon said, crawling closer until he was resting across V-mon’s legs, just below Daisuke’s arm.

Ken’s hand dropped onto his head, began to scratch between his ears. V-mon sniffled, pressed up against the pressure and turned to look at Ken again. Ken was watching the tablet, lips pressed thin with rage for all his touch was gentle. V-mon looked at the tablet in his lap, unable to stop his whimper when he saw the surveillance from the mine. He watched, again, as the catwalk exploded; how the force of it lifted Daisuke off his feet even before the walkway broke apart; how far Daisuke was thrown. The sickening sound of Daisuke’s head cracking against the rock; his coat catching the fire; the swift fall. Ken’s fingers let off the scratching, instead rubbing gently at the base of his ears and V-mon’s whimpers eased off into a muted rumble deep in his chest.

“Wormmon,” Ken said, and V-mon shivered, thought he would have goosebumps if he could, at the sound of Ken’s voice. Wormmon looked up, eyes as wary as V-mon felt, because the last time Ken had had that voice -the last time Daisuke had almost bled out while V-mon could only stand by uselessly- a whole village had burnt to the ground without survivors, without even slaves taken. Ken lifted the tablet for Wormmon to see. The surveillance video was on a frozen shot of Agumon, flames licking at the edge of his mouth. “Find this one for me.”

“The Chosen will come for him,” Wormmon warned.

“I know.”

There was a moment where neither V-mon or Wormmon spoke. V-mon buried his head in the bedsheets, refused to deal with anything that wasn’t Daisuke. It wasn’t very brave of him, but he thought Daisuke would forgive him for it right now. “Ken-chan,” Wormmon finally said hesitantly, “We don’t… want to actually kill the Chosen, remember? Gone, yes. But not dead.”

“Wormmon, don’t argue with me right now,” Ken said, even and steady and way, way too calm. 

Wormmon hesitated a moment, then nodded. “Okay.”

Ken set the tablet aside, turned on his side so he was fully facing Daisuke. Ken stopped rubbing at V-mon’s head, instead gripping Daisuke’s hand in both of his. “We’ll fix this,” Ken promised quietly, eyes not moving from Daisuke’s face.

*****

There was a kind of shock among the Chosen, when when they eventually trooped home hours later. The mine stood free behind them, tower broken, Agumon’s friend successfully found. Still, despite their victory, the group was caught in a silence.

Daisuke had always seemed kind of invincible, even when he’d lost a battle, even when he stood as the only line of defense between the Chosen and a barely conscious V-mon. Like nothing could touch him, even with bloody knuckles and split lips. It was a shock, one equal to a blow to the head, to be reminded Daisuke was as mortal as the rest of them.

Worse, (only not worse. What was worse than the blood streaked down Daisuke’s face. No, equal) was what was going to come next. The inevitable retribution. The waiting, unable to predict what was going to happen.

They headed home, unspeaking and pale. Agumon stayed behind to watch over the mines, in case the Kaiser tried to reclaim them. No one mentioned how guilty he looked, how shaken, like maybe it hadn’t occurred to him either that Daisuke could get seriously hurt.

Taichi’s phone rang.

They all jumped, looked over wildly. Taichi grimaced in response, pulling out and glancing at it. Then his eyes went very, very wide and he hurriedly answered it, fingers tripping over the screen until it was on speaker. “Daisuke?” he asked, voice cracking. There was a sudden flurry as they all registered that and gathered around.

“No,” said a too calm, too cold voice. Hikari froze, suddenly nauseous with nerves. She watched Taichi’s whole face change, the surprise and concern melting away into loathing, anger poignant enough to be called poison.

“Ichijouji,” Taichi spat, word curled hard over his tongue, like he hated saying even just the name.

Ichijouji didn’t seem deterred by Taichi’s tone when he continued, “You are going to call his parents and explain to them why their son won’t be home for a while.” He gave each word an odd weight, like he was thinking through each one and measuring them as he said it. Like if he wasn’t careful he’d start screaming.

“Excuse me?” Taichi asked.

Ichijouji’s voice got somehow colder. “Daisuke’s parents. Call them.”

“Why should we do anything you say?” Iori asked, glaring down at the phone as well, though there was no matching Taichi’s expression.

“Because if I was even a third as good as I am, he’d be dead.”

The words dripped ice down Hikari’s spine; despite everything, it was impossible to imagine Daisuke dead, as vibrant as he was. Taichi went very pale, eyes suddenly the only color in his face; she thought for a second he was going to be sick. She turned away from the phone, closed her eyes against the sudden panic and grief that swallowed her.

She couldn’t block out Ichijouji’s voice though, “And you’ll do it for Jun-san’s sake.”

“Jun?” Takeru asked, voice pitched low so Ichijouji couldn’t hear.

“Daisuke’s older sister,” Taichi said back.

Ichijouji continued, “His parents may be worse than mine but I’m quite fond of Jun-san. She’s not involved in this, she knows nothing. But she does love her brother. She doesn’t deserve to worry about him.”

It was a low blow, Hikari thought, watching as Taichi’s expression crumbled into something guilty. Her own stomach swam uneasily.

“We’ll think of something,” Taichi said quietly.

“I wouldn’t fret too much. They probably won’t notice him gone for a few days.”

Taichi opened his mouth to say something else, probably to ask how Daisuke was, but Ichijouji ended the call without another word.

*****

After that call ended, there was three days of nothing.

*****

Agumon moved on from the mines; met up with other free digimon, ones that protected freed territory from Imperial forces, kept an eye on those areas the Chosen hadn’t taken back yet. They traded information: troop movements, hidey holes for resources, names of safe people and places. All of which would eventually find its way to Tentomon.

They met at a riverside, in an unimportant little territory that hadn’t received much Imperial attention even before the Chosen had freed it. It was one of the places Tentomon had listed as safe, though perhaps with not enough cover for more than brief meetings. 

Agumon tried to ignore that the other digimon were watching him with starry eyes. “He’s the one who took down the Knight,” they whispered to themselves and Agumon tried not to remember how Motomiya had fallen, been carried out totally limp. 

Gabumon was there, watching with sympathetic eyes. “I heard what happened,” he said, quiet so the others didn’t overhear and make a fuss. “You okay?” 

“Yeah,” Agumon said, “Just really wasn’t expecting everything to explode like it did.”

It was as close to the truth as he felt comfortable getting around digimon who weren’t partnered to the Chosen. He didn’t think they really understood how fragile humans were, how Agumon had hurt a boy barely into high school and not just some omnipotent symbol of the Empire.

“I’m sorry,” Gabumon said, because Gabumon was sweet and didn’t like seeing others in pain. Agumon waved it off and tugged him back into the group of digimon, to share whatever Gabumon had gotten himself into in the west.

When the battle started, there was no warning.

It started with Stingmon falling from the sky with barely a whisper. He dropped down and three digimon were dead. Then the slaves swept in; it wasn’t a large force by any means, but they tore through the freed digimon without hesitation. Agumon tried to fight back, but he was quickly outnumbered.

Gabumon stood at his back, lashed out at anything that came too close. Agumon could hear his heavy panting, echoed by himself as they struggled against the slaves. He doubted they’d win; there wasn’t anywhere to run. He couldn’t even be sure how long they’d been fighting. But he couldn’t stop, couldn’t just give up without a fight. He’d never be able to look at Taichi again if he did.

An Airdramon flew down, barreled down at them without showing signs of slowing. Agumon dove away, knew Gabumon did the same behind him. Despite knowing that it was either move or be caught in the Airdramon’s teeth, Agumon couldn’t help but instantly feel like it was the worst thing they could have done.

Agumon clambered back to his feet, looked around again at the battle they had never had a chance of winning.

He could see Gabumon, trying to fight off two Woodmon and a Gekomon. He overextended on an attack and, without Agumon to guard his back, one of the Woodmon smashed into his side. Gabumon cried out, laid flat but struggling to his feet.

Agumon’s inattention cost him. Stingmon’s spikes dug deep into his back, making him cry out. He collapsed forward, struggling to move through the pain; Stingmon was a creature of precision, Agumon remembered that from the their last fight, and when Stingmon wanted someone down, they stayed down.

That Stingmon hadn’t taken the much easier kill shot was really worrying, if Agumon thought about it.

Stingmon did nothing to keep him down, did nothing besides stand there, watching. Silent, patient, yet with a sharp edged air Agumon didn’t recall from their last fight.

Agumon looked over, breath stirring in the dirt, to find Gabumon collapsed in the mud. There were deep gorges from Tyrannomon’s claws all along his sides, tearing apart the fur and hide. Agumon whimpered when Tyrannomon kicked Gabumon, sending him rolling away into the bushes. _Stay there,_ he begged, _don’t get up. Stay safe._

Agumon tried to raise himself back up, despite the searing pain in his back. He couldn’t see the others, just the slaves and Stingmon’s presence oddly cold. He could still hear fighting, the other’s losing struggle, hidden in the crowd though it was.

When the Kaiser himself walked onto the battlefield, untouched and coldly calm, it wasn’t even that surprising.

The Kaiser stopped in front of him, mouth a stern, furious line. Agumon stared up at him, remembered the explosion and Motomiya falling. “Come to kill me?” he asked, forcing himself to his knees because he refused to lay prone before this man, however much moving hurt. _Sorry_ , he thought at Gabumon, at the freed digimon who’d been caught in this mess. _I didn’t mean to drag you all into this._

The Kaiser’s head tilted, as if examining him. “Oh no,” he said, “You’re not dying here.”

Agumon watched, bravado wavering, chill creeping in, as the Kaiser removed a tiny black band from his pocket and it grew into the familiar Ring. “I won’t fight for you,” Agumon said, stronger than he thought he’d manage.

The Kaiser laughed, low and mocking and terribly smug. “Look around you. Everyone who stands with me now, once said those words,” the Kaiser said.

Agumon gulped thickly. “My friends will find me.”

The Kaiser smiled then, a slash of white teeth. “Don’t worry. We’re going to find them first.”

*****

The call came in the morning of the fourth day, when Hikari’s nerves were beyond shot waiting for the Empire to act. Yamato frantic on Taichi’s phone; she could hear him screaming even half way across the living room. Taichi’s face was pale, stricken. He motioned her to call the others even as he kept trying to talk to Yamato.

Yamato barely gave them enough time to gather themselves together before he arrived and forced them into the Digital World. Hikari followed behind, let him lead, though the pace he set was punishing.

“ _Gabumon!_ ” Yamato shouted, running for where his partner was collapsed in the mud, rushing clear ahead of the rest of the team. He outpaced them all with ease, driven by near panic. 

Hikari struggled to keep up with him, heard the rest of her team running behind her, the frantic beat of their feet on the ground. “Yamato,” Taichi shouted from her side. She could see in her periphery his head turning rapidly from Yamato to their surroundings, trying to keep an eye out of Empire forces. “Yamato, slow down!”

Yamato didn’t listen, kept running until he skidded to his knees next to his partner. With gentle hands, Yamato eased Gabumon into his lap. “Buddy, you with me?” he asked softly, hands starting to run through Gabumon’s fur, pulling out the mud. Doing so revealed the deep claw marks across his hide, bits of fur matted together from burns and not mud. Hikari clapped a hand over her mouth in horror as she saw the full extent of Gabumon’s injuries. 

Gabumon looked up at Yamato, dazed still, eyes unfocused. “Yamato?” he finally asked, voice soft and weak, “You got my message.”

“Of course I did,” Yamato said. He tried to smile reassuringly, but it came out wobbly and afraid. “I’m here. It’s okay now.”

Gabumon dedigivolved to Tsunomon, as if that reassurance was all he’d been waiting for, as if he’d only been holding on until he felt safe again. Yamato clutched the Baby digimon close, looked up at them with huge eyes made pale with fear. Sora made a quiet, sad sound, kneeled next to him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

“What happened?” Takeru asked, horror struck.

Tsunomon blinked up at them slowly, laying boneless in Yamato’s arms. “The Kaiser,” he said after a moment, “He came with Stingmon.”

Taichi sucked in a sharp breath, eyes going very wide, then very guilty. “Oh god,” he said, voice a quiet little misery, “Yamato, I’m so sorry.”

“Shut up,” Yamato hissed, curling further around Tsunomon as if that alone would protect him. Taichi flinched full-bodied, then took a step back, guilt in his expression thick enough to drown in. Hikari made a wounded noise on his behalf, saw the Sora look up at him sadly from where she was still holding Yamato to her side.

“He just, tore through our defenses. It happened so quickly,” Tsunomon continued to mumble, voice getting quieter as he went.

“Shhh,” Yamato said, “It’s alright, you can rest now.”

Tsunomon shook his head, seemed to try to rouse himself. He looked up, sought out Taichi, and said in a weak voice, “He took Agumon.”

The silence that consumed them felt like a funeral; Hikari’s voice caught in her throat, caught on all her denials, because Ichijouji couldn’t have Agumon, couldn’t have one of their partners. She couldn’t -didn’t want to- imagine one of them Ringed, forced to fight the world they loved, left with no choice but surrender to the Kaiser’s (undoubtedly currently nonexistent) mercies.

Taichi made a sound, half terror, half grief. Then he collapsed to his knees with wide eyes, shaking, head moving in tiny increments of denial.

“I saw him… take Agumon,” Tsunomon said slowly, “I’d already lost to the army. I couldn’t stop it. I don’t know how the Kaiser didn’t see me and take me too.”

“No, shh, don’t worry about that,” Yamato said immediately, clutching him a little tighter.

“We can’t stay here,” Sora said, “He might come back.” 

No one moved. They stood there, watching Tsunomon, Hikari trying to think of how they were going to get Agumon back.

After only a few seconds of that, Sora said sharply, “Hikari!”

Hikari jolted out of her thoughts, looked down at Sora’s stern eyes. “Right,” she said after a second, nodding slightly. She leaned down and gently grasped Taichi’s shoulders, urged him to his feet again. “Come on, we need to go home.”

Everyone was silent; even as they exited into the Yagami apartment, stood looking around at each other. Yamato didn’t give them any attention, sat down on the couch and curled around Tsunomon. Taichi watched him, guilty, lost, hands clenching uselessly at his sides.

Sora ignored both of the useless boys, instead marching between kitchen and bathroom, gathering food and bandages, whatever Tsunomon needed. Then she sat down next to Yamato, ignoring his fierce glare, and began helping Tsunomon drink water.

Hikari watched for a few seconds, then turned away. “I’m going to call Koushiro-san,” she said. The others nodded. Hikari stepped into her room, pulled out her phone; she kept the door half-open so she could watch the living room.

“Hello?” Koushiro said.

Without preamble, she said, “The Kaiser has Agumon.”

There was a long moment of silence, then Koushiro sweared, soft but vehement. “I’ll find him,” he promised.

“Thank you,” she said.

The call ended then, Koushiro not wasting time before starting his search. Hikari put her phone away, glanced out through the door. Yamato and Sora were absorbed with helping Tsunomon, while Taichi sat across from them, eyes on his hand. Her team were speaking lowly amongst themselves; She could see how tense they were, worry making them irritated. Miyako was a little louder than the others as she spoke, tone annoyed, words clipped. Hikari turned away and sat down heavily onto the bed, buried her face in her hands. 

Ichijouji had Agumon.

The thought had her shivering, almost nauseous. She knew Ichijouji wasn’t going to let Daisuke being hurt go without blood; there was no way they were going to get Agumon back without a fight, if Ichijouji didn’t just keep him at the base as a trophy.

The door opened; Hikari looked up, hands falling into her lap, and watched as her team trooped inside. They still looked tense, distressed, but they weren’t arguing anymore, instead looking to her for direction. Iori closed the door fully, leaning against it; his face was pinched as he looked at her. “We have to get him back.”

“We will,” she promised, “Whatever it takes.”

“It’s a trap, you know,” Miyako said, “He wants us to come for Agumon.”

“He wants us to suffer,” Takeru corrected, voice sharp and angry, shoulders hiked defensively, “For hurting Motomiya-kun so bad. That’s why he led the attack himself.”

“It doesn’t matter why,” Hikari said, “We’re getting him back.”

“What do you think the chances are he won’t just whisk Agumon away to his base where we can’t get to him?” Upamon asked.

Hikari bit her lip, because she’d just been thinking the same thing, but Takeru spoke up, “He won’t. If he’s got Agumon Ringed, he’ll want us to see. He’ll want Taichi-san to see. Finding him won’t be a problem.”

“He’ll probably be well-guarded though,” Iori said, “So there’s no chance of us freeing him.”

“We’ll have to distract them then,” Plotmon said, “Diversionary tactics. Separate the guards.”

“Agumon will fight us, if he’s Ringed,” Tokomon said.

“Well, we’ve freed slaves before. Don’t see why this should be any different,” Upamon said.

“When do we go after him?” Miyako asked.

“Once Koushiro-san has word of Agumon,” Hikari said, “He’s looking into it. It don’t know how long it will take. Be ready, we might have to move quick.”

“Yeah sure,” Miyako said, nodding. “Think we should go rest up, prepare, then. Call us when you hear something?”

“Okay,” Hikari agreed.

Miyako rested a hand on her shoulder, eyes worried. “Get some rest, yeah?”

“Sure,” Hikari agreed, trying to smile. Part of her shivered, though she clamped down on it before it became visible. Sleep was all but impossible right now; she kept seeing Daisuke fall every time she dreamt.

After the others had left, Plotmon looked up at her. “If it comes to a fight-”

“No,” Hikari cut her off, voice thick but stern, “I know what you’re going to say. And no. We’re not going to mercy kill Agumon.”

“It might be necessary.”

“No,” Hikari said again. She couldn’t stand the thought of sacrificing Agumon, of giving up on saving him. It felt like letting the Kaiser win; he had already laid claim to Daisuke, she couldn’t let him have Agumon too. Couldn’t let him take something else away, let him have another thing to lord over them.

And losing Agumon, while still struggling with Daisuke’s betrayal, would destroy Taichi.

“We’re not going to hurt him,” Hikari said again, voice daring Plotmon to keep arguing. Plotmon watched her for a minute then nodded. The acceptance eased some of the tension in her chest. Hikari let herself collapse backwards onto the bed.

*****

Hikari didn’t sleep well that night, though it was no surprise. She dreamt of fire and smoke scorching her throat. She dreamt of Daisuke’s fall, of claws seizing Agumon away into the shadows. Taichi watched her watch it happen, eyes accusing. _“Just going to stand there? Can’t you do anything princess?”_

Something trembled deep in her chest at the use of that name. Hikari shrunk beneath the weight of his gaze, small and shaking and pitiful. _“I’m sorry.”_

 _“Yeah, you always are. Whatever.”_ Taichi turned, walked away.

She dreamt of Daisuke watching her, feet dangling from the catwalk, grin bloody. “ _Can’t win,_ ” he sang just before the whole catwalk went up in flames.

She dreamt of a hand wrapping tight around her goggles and using them to strangle her.

Hikari woke hyperventilating, chest aching, Plotmon nuzzling worriedly at her cheek. Hikari laid there, heart pounding, barely three hours of sleep into the night. Above her, Taichi was also breathing heavily, crying muted but audible.

Hikari laid there, listening, and didn’t sleep again.

*****

Miyako returned to the Yagami’s apartment when Hikari called them, followed her back into the Digital World. Wondered if she really thought she was fooling anyone.

No matter how well Hikari acted, there was no hiding the huge circles around her eyes, the exhausted bow of her shoulders. Which Miyako could understand; wasn’t like she was resting easy until Motomiya showed up at school again, fit as could be. 

“You okay?” Miyako asked, looking at Hikari. Miyako could never tell when it was a good day or not, when Hikari was present and focused or when she was lost in her own head. Miyako hated those bad days, when Hikari didn’t seem to hear them at all.

Hikari smiled, a tiny wisp of a thing. “I’m alright,” she said, eyes huge and dark.

Miyako bit back a sigh. _Here we go again_ , she thought. At least when Miyako had a problem, she admitted it. She wasn’t sure what Hikari was trying to gain by pretending she was alright. Miyako couldn’t figure out where to push, how to push, to get Hikari to talk to her.

At least she wasn’t alone. She knew Takeru felt the same frustration.

(“You’re pushing too hard,” Iori said, calm as could be as he sipped at his tea. “She needs support, not harassment. Motomiya is trying to convince her she can’t lead. We have to stand with her, not force her to talk if she’s uncomfortable.”

Miyako shouted wordless frustration in his direction; Takeru restrained himself to a sigh.)

Miyako wasn’t sure how to explain to Iori, who seemed to think so highly of Hikari, that that kind of stance required Hikari to hear their support and she wasn’t sure Hikari could through her own doubts. 

“There’s been reports of a lot of activity in this area since Agumon was taken,” Koushiro said, forcing Miyako from her thoughts.

“I don’t like this,” Hawkmon said to her. Miyako couldn’t help but agree.

“Are we sure?” Gabumon asked. He was sticking close to Yamato, half-hidden behind his leg; he’d refused to stay behind, to finish resting, was insistent on helping rescue Agumon after failing to protect him originally. “The place where Agumon and I met was supposed to be safe.”

“Well, it’s hard to say for sure, but most of my sources are agreeing,” Koushiro said.

“Trap,” Miyako muttered. Hikari sighed and somehow looked more exhausted.

“Let’s go,” Hikari said.

Miyako wasn’t sure exactly what they were looking for, but she kept an eye out for anything that wasn’t trees and green things. There wasn’t much out of place and the further they went without seeing signs of Koushiro’s reported activity, the tenser Miyako became.

“This is wrong,” Takeru said, “I’m telling you, he should be showing off that he managed to take Agumon. We shouldn’t have to look for him.”

“Trap,” Miyako muttered again, louder now. Yamato twitched, glaring at her.

“They’re right,” Taichi said. Yamato’s glare switched to him, making Taichi wilt.

Hikari’s phone going off made them all jump. Taichi cursed, eyes huge as he glared at Hikari. Miyako pressed a hand to her chest, the rapid-fast pace of her heart, as Hikari drew out her phone and answered. 

“Sora-san? What’s wrong?”

Yamato and Taichi sharpened onto her, worry bright and clear.

Hikari only spoke to Sora for a few seconds before she ended the call and turned to look at them. “I need someone to go back.”

“What’s going on?” Taichi demanded.

“Mimi-san’s there. Something’s happened to Palmon. They need someone to open a portal.”

“I’ll go,” Miyako volunteered, “I like Mimi-san.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” Miyako said brightly. She turned to Hawkmon, activated the Armor Digivolution, and then climbed onto Holsmon’s back so she could return faster. “See ya!”

Miyako flew back to the Gate, tumbled back into the human world. Mimi and Sora were waiting, Mimi pale and wild-eyed, clutching her digivice white-knuckled; Sora was grim-faced, mouth pressed thing, an odd foreboding in her eyes.

“Let’s go, come on,” Mimi snapped, worrying making her sharp.

Miyako turned, reopened the Gate, and sped them back to the Digital World. She flew them across the Digital World, followed Mimi’s directions until they were over a village.

What had been a village.

Parts of it were still burning, but most was smoke and embers, ash and rubble. The surrounding fields were completely destroyed, laid torn up and overturned. Data strands flowed upwards, proof of newly dead digimon. “Palmon,” Mimi breathed, quiet and terrified.

“Holsmon,” Sora said, voice wavering, “Land, please. And keep an eye out.”

It was worse on the ground. On the ground, Miyako could make out the specific damage. The blast marks, the patterns in the ground where an army had marched through, the spaces where bodies used to be. The smoke was so thick in some places still Miyako choked, yanked up her shirt over her nose. It didn’t help much; smoke still clung to the back of her throat anyway.

“Palmon!” Mimi shouted, hands cupped around her mouth. Miyako jumped in surprise, looking over at her wide-eyed.

Sora winced as Mimi’s shout echoed through the remains of the village. “Mimi, shush!” Sora hissed, glancing around anxiously for lingering slaves.

“Don’t shush me. Palmon!”

Miyako watched as Mimi marched deeper into the ruins, still shouting for Palmon, utterly unafraid.

Sora sighed. “Come on,” she said and started after Mimi. Miyako followed obediently, looking over the little crumbling homes. Holsmon stepped up next to her, shuffled under her arm to press against her side.

They walked, Mimi’s calls piercing the silence, Sora muffling coughs into her elbow, Miyako fighting off shivers. She well-remembered the terror of facing down the Kaiser’s army without warning. But to face it without even the defense of Armour digivolving? They wouldn’t have stood a chance.

Miyako jumped nearly a foot when she heard a noise that didn’t belong. Immediately after starting, she froze full-bodied. “Did you hear that?” she asked Holsmon from the corner of her mouth. She eyed Sora and Mimi, several feet ahead and unaware she was no longer following.

“No. Is it more slaves?” Holsmon asked, going tense and battle-ready.

“I don’t know,” she said. She listened intently, then heard the noise again, clearer this time. That wasn’t one of the Kaiser’s slaves; in fact, it sounded sobbing.

Miyako abandoned following the others, instead tracking the noise down to one of the crumbling houses. “Hello?” she called, and heard a responsive whimper.

“Miyako-san, please be careful,” Holsmon pleaded as she got down on her knees.

She waved his concern off, instead peering at the house, searching for movement. The ceiling had collapsed, the whole house crumbling in on itself. It was still smoldering in parts, the wood glowing faintly with heat. The debris had fallen just right, creating a narrow pocket of safe space, just big enough for Miyako to stretch an arm into if she laid down. Miyako looked inside that pocket and two watery yellow eyes looked back at her. The little bundle of black fur began to shake desperately, tears falling, hiccuping with sobs. “Please,” Botamon pleaded.

Miyako flattened onto her stomach to better look at him. “It’s alright. I’m going to get you out.”

“I don’t want to be Ringed,” the baby whimpered.

Miyako froze, drew back a little so she didn’t seem threatening. “I’m not with the Empire,” she said, trying to speak clear and soft at the same time, “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m here to help.”

The little thing hiccuped and kept watching her.

“Miyako-san, I’m not sure how stable this is,” Holsmon warned, eying the structure.

She looked up, eyed the parts that were still burning; she could hear the wood crackling faintly, a warning sign that some important inner support could give at any second. “Right,” she acknowledged. She turned back to the little digimon. “Sorry,” she apologized, because she didn’t have time to calm it. She instead just scooted forward and reached for Botamon.

It was a tight fit, and hot. Miyako coughed as she pressed into the dirt, trying to shuffle as close as she could. She could feel the heat from the wood this close, searing against her skin even though she wasn’t touching it. She wanted to cry a little, that Botamon would rather hide in the heat and smoke and ash and risk it collapsing, then take the short distance to safety. The poor thing must be so scared.

She nudged up against the wood, couldn’t help it in the tight confines. Ash rained down in response; Miyako bit back a cry as the embers landed on her, burned even through her thick clothes.

Botamon tried to back away, then began crying in earnest as she wrapped her hand around him. Miyako winced, gut clenching, but didn’t stop. “Shh, I’m sorry, shhh,” she repeated, carefully pulled the baby towards herself. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Finally, she managed to inch Botamon out of the ruins. His cries muted, though he continued to shake violently and tears still flooded out. Miyako pushed herself back to her knees, cradling Botamon close to her chest. She was covered in ash, all along her front, her arms, her hair; her skin felt too small, tight from the constant heat. Slowly, taking care to be gentle with him, she stripped off her vest and used it to clean Botamon off as best she could. That done, she stood and tossed the dirty vest aside; she began walking back towards Sora and Mimi, still cradling Botamon, humming low and soft in her chest.

It only took a few seconds for Botamon to calm, simply too tired to stay scared, especially when confronted by warmth and a gentle touch. He settled into her hold, eyes falling to half-mast, and Miyako kept humming.

She’d almost caught up with the others when Mimi started screaming, wordless with upset, dashing forward in a flurry of red hair. Sora called for her and was resoundly ignored. Mimi collapsed to her knees suddenly and it was then Miyako saw Palmon, collapsed on the ground, much like Gabumon had been, only in much worse condition.

Miyako froze several feet away as Mimi pulled Palmon close, clutched at her as she sobbed loudly. Palmon awoke in stages, finally lifting one arm and wrapping it weakly around Mimi’s neck. “Hi,” Palmon croaked.

Mimi started to sob louder.

Sora knelt down. “Come on, let’s get her home,” she said softly, settling a gentle hand on Palmon’s forehead. Palmon made a soft sound, twitching up into the touch.

Mimi nodded, sniffling, and stood. She didn’t seem to be having any trouble carrying Palmon, bore the limp weight readily. “I’m going to kill Ichijouji for this,” Mimi whispered but for all her eyes were furious, there was no strength in the words. 

“You don’t mean that,” Sora said soothingly.

“Don’t tell me what I don’t mean,” Mimi said.

Palmon said, weak, struggling, “Agumon…”

“What?”

“Agumon… was here,” Palmon said. Miyako shivered, watched Sora’s eyes close as if to block out the words. “Didn’t even see the Ring until the attack started. Just, thought he was checking in. He led it, the attack.”

“Oh god,” Mimi breathed.

“Of course,” Sora said, wrath and the promise of ruin in her voice, “Motomiya acts as Ichijouji’s general. He’d need a replacement now.”

Miyako looked around, at what was left of the village, at where Palmon had collapsed. “Why not take her too?” she wondered.

Mimi spun and pinned her with a glare. “What?”

Miyako refused to budge budge. “She’s not hidden. Not like Gabumon. Ichijouji couldn’t have missed her. Why not take her too?”

“Miyako-chan’s right,” Sora said. Sora looked around, eyes sharp. “This isn’t Empire territory. We’re no where close. There aren’t any towers.”

“What’s your point?” Mimi demanded.

“This isn’t a territory grab. This is…” Sora sucked in a sharp breath, went very pale. “We need to call the others. Jou-san, Koushiro-kun, their partners...I, Biyomon.”

“No,” Miyako protested, “No, it’s supposed to be us. We’re the ones who hurt Motomiya-kun. He’s supposed to come after us, not you.”

“Well, he’s not,” Sora snapped, pulling out her phone.

Miyako flinched, turned to face the wreckage again. In her arms, Botamon made a quiet, sleepy sound, barely awake. Her team had been the ones to hurt Daisuke, they were supposed to be the ones Ichijouji went after for revenge. Not the older Chosen, not their partners, and certainly not some innocent village that just happened to be housing Palmon.

After several hurried phone calls, Sora put her phone away, turned back to them. “Come, we need to regroup. I need to find Biyomon.”

“No,” Miyako said, still staring at the village. Botamon slept soundly in her arms and smoke burned down her throat. “No, I’m not leaving.”

“What?” Sora demanded.

“I’m not leaving,” she said again, “Palmon and Botamon, they can’t be the only survivors. There has to be more. I’m going to stay and help. I have to. They wouldn’t have been attacked if not for us. I- I’ll fly you to the Gate, but I’m coming back.”

“It’s not safe. Ichijouji’s after us specifically right now,” Sora reminded.

“Don’t argue with me,” Miyako said, “You need to find Biyomon.”

Sora watched her, expression worried, before she nodded. “Okay, be careful,” she said.

“Sora, are you sure?” Mimi asked, even though her expression showed how eager she was to get home and take care of Palmon.

“Yeah,” Sora said, eyes still on Miyako. Miyako smiled, pretended she didn’t see how much Sora really wasn’t sure. “She’s tough. She can handle it.”

“I’ll see you at home,” Miyako promised.

Botamon slept in her arms even as she flew everyone back to the Gate, even as she returned to the village. It was only as they landed again, smoke barely any thinner, that Botamon stirred. He blinked up at her as he came around. Miyako’s heart ached at the simple, uncomplicated trust on his face, how easily he’d taken to her. She smiled down at him. “Hey there,” she said quietly.

He gave a sleepy mumble.

Miyako looked up, around, dismay sinking her stomach as she took in the destruction. “We’re going to help your friends, okay?”

Botamon sat up, eyes going more alert. He looked around as she had. The little body trembled again but he nodded surely. “Okay.”

*****

Gomamon was found first, collapsed in a river bed, front covered in burn marks. Hikari and Takeru carried him to the human world, trying to be as careful of his wounds as possible. There, Jou took him, fear and horror trapped tight behind the thin veneer of his doctorhood. Mimi sat with Palmon, having been arrested of her attempts to turn Palmon into a mummy in her worry.

There had been no attack force for Gomamon, there had been no need. He’d been alone at the time, traveling, keeping watch from the waters. Agumon had simply walked up and attacked him before Gomamon had realized he was wearing a Ring. 

Sora came cradling Biyomon, flanked by grim-faced Taichi and Yamato. Biyomon marked another village destroyed, wiped clean off the map with even the Kaiser’s usual minimal regard for life gone. 

Iori and Koushiro brought Tentomon home, only he’d dedigivolved all the way to Bubbmon. Koushiro collapsed as soon as he arrived, eyes huge, face pale, whole body shaking as he tried to hide Bubbmon against his chest. Iori looked faintly green as he described the hidey hole Tentomon and some of his informants had been using at the time of the attack. 

They’d caught the tail end of it, the last slaves marching away, free digimon still caught in their dying throes. Iori and Koushiro had eased what they could, but there’d been no saving them. Tentomon had been at the end of it all, shell pockmarked and gorged, like something had tried to claw through to the delicate wings beneath. 

SPIES had been scrawled on the mangled shell in dark colors.

Jou fit everyone back together, hands shaking despite his best efforts. Koushiro allowed himself to be moved to the couch, where he sat unspeaking, as unresponsive as Bubbmon passed out in his arms. 

“It wasn’t a trap,” Takeru said softly as they watched the group work, “The forest, I mean. It wasn’t a trap. It was a diversion.”

Hikari nodded. “Made sure we were too focused on Agumon to realize the others were being attacked.”

“Yeah.” Takeru sighed. He rubbed at his temples tiredly, expression drawn tight. “What a mess.”

Hikari huffed a tired agreement. “How do things seem to keep getting worse?” she wondered. 

Takeru shrugged. “This was simpler when we were eight.”

“This was simpler a few months ago,” Hikari corrected. Takeru nodded agreement and Hikari frowned worriedly as the tense lines of his face deepened. She settled her hand on his arm. “Hey, you should get some rest, okay?”

“What about you?” Takeru asked, and she didn’t like how worry made those lines even thicker.

“I’m going to wait for Miyako-chan to come back,” she said, “Then I’ll rest.”

Takeru hesitated, watching her unsurely, then nodded and went to sit down next to Yamato. He all but collapsed into the couch, rolling his head back against the cushions and closing his eyes. Yamato glanced over, eyes going soft as he checked on his brother; Hikari turned away, left them to their own comforts.

It was hours before Miyako came back, though she sent messages assuring she was still alive and safe regularly. When she did come back, she was covered in ash, the usual bright shine of her hair dulled, face drawn and gaunt in a way Hikari wasn’t used to from her. There was a lost look in her eyes that had Hikari approaching wordlessly and tucking the taller girl into her arms. Miyako’s hands slid along her back and she could feel them shaking. 

“Six,” Miyako told her, quiet and wet, “A whole village and I- I could only save six.”

“You did everything you could,” Hikari assured. She ran her hands over Miyako’s hair, uncaring of the thick ash coated in it, how the smell of smoke clung to the strands.

“They never stood a chance,” Miyako said waveringly, “It was a massacre.”

“Shhh, it’s okay now,” Hikari promised, not stopping the movement of her hands. Miyako’s shoulders shook, whole body trembling slightly, and Hikari ached that she couldn’t do more; ached to see Miyako, usually so bright and strong, so destroyed.

Hikari let Miyako shake herself apart, waited until she pulled back on her own, wiped at the dust and tear tracks on her face. “Are you okay?” Hikari asked.

Miyako paused and then wordlessly held out her hands. Hikari sucked in a sharp breath when she saw them, gently held them in her own. Miyako’s nails were split, cracked open, and bleeding; the pads of her fingers and her knuckles were raw, the skin scraped back. Like she’d been scratching at rock for hours. “Hurts,” Miyako admitted in a tiny voice.

“Well, Jou-san can clean these up, then you’ll feel better,” Hikari said, smiling, wishing it was that simple.

Miyako nodded and let Hikari guide her over to the others. Jou’s expression was exhausted even as he bent to work again; Mimi, sitting next to her, wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her in close, pressed a kiss against her hair. Poromon hopped into her lap, careful not to disturb Jou’s work.

Hikari watched them for several seconds; her team, safe but heartsore, the image too familiar now. She jumped a little when a hand landed on her arm, startling her; she looked over, found Taichi watching her with dark eyes. He motioned wordlessly for her to follow him, then retreated into the bedroom. Hikari looked over her team again, chest hollowing, then followed.

Taichi sat down heavily on the bed, running a tired hand over his face. It took a few seconds, then he said quietly, practically forcing the words out like they hurt. “We have to stop him.”

Hikari went cold. “I already discussed this with Plotmon. I’m not killing Agumon. I refuse.”

“So, what, we sit around while he kills everyone else?”

“We save him,” Hikari said fiercely, hating the emptiness in his voice. 

“Digimon are dying,” Taichi said, “Agumon wouldn’t want to be used like this.”

“Well, I’m not letting the Kaiser win this! Not this one.”

Taichi sighed, dropped his head down. “I get that. I hate the idea as much as you do. But Agumon… he wouldn’t want this. I’m his partner. I should decide this, not you.”

“Yeah, well, you don’t give my team orders,” Hikari said, watched Taichi draw back in shock, “And I am not telling them to kill Agumon.”

“So everyone that dies before we can save him, he’s just supposed to live with that?”

“No, I am. This is my decision. I will carry it.” 

“That’s not how it works,” Taichi snapped, fire and fear and- _oh_.

Hikari leaned in, held his eyes as she said, as strong and clear as she could, “Taichi, this is not your fault. It’s not Agumon’s fault either. You don’t have to pay for it.” 

Taichi stared up at her wordlessly for a minute, eyes going wide and shiny. Then, gulping thickly, he leaned forward and wrapped her up in a hug. “I love you, you know?” he asked huskily.

She smiled a little, squeezed the back of his neck in reassurance. “I know. I’m going to make this okay. I promise.” 

*****

V-mon refused to leave the bedroom, to take his eyes off Daisuke, even as he got better. Daisuke woke up in fits and starts, pain and medicine conspiring to keep him disoriented and out of sorts, never quite together enough to remember anything the next time he woke up. Still, despite his fogginess, Daisuke seemed to find V-mon’s presence comforting, so V-mon refused to leave.

Ken came and went; he was there the first time Daisuke woke up, but after that he never caught Daisuke awake. He stayed for minutes at a time, watching Daisuke sleep, before he went back to work. Ken was silent every visit and all of his usual ease was gone. He held himself stiffly, like he had to think through every movement, like maybe he was afraid of lashing out if he didn’t. V-mon didn’t try talking to him, shied away from the hard glance of his eyes; he couldn’t help but feel like maybe Ken was angry with him, blamed him a little for what had happened, no matter what he said.

V-mon levered himself up when the door opened, only to go slack with relief when Wormmon entered. “Ah, hi,” he said, laying back down.

Wormmon returned the greeting, crawling up onto the bed. He stopped to look at Daisuke’s face for a while, eyes huge and worried and exhausted. Ken on a warpath was impossible to keep up with, but Wormmon was trying.

“How’s it going?” V-mon asked.

Wormmon sighed, gave up his examination of Daisuke so he could crawl onto the pillow with V-mon and curl up next to him. “I can’t get him to slow down and rest,” Wormmon said, tone mournful.

V-mon couldn’t remember if Ken had joined them to sleep for the night since Daisuke had been hurt, he realized with a sinking stomach. Daisuke trusted him to take care of Ken and Wormmon when he couldn’t; and yet, worse than the anxiety of letting Daisuke down was the overwhelming fear of walking away while Daisuke was so vulnerable. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Wormmon said, “I just, need a moment to rest.”

“Okay,” V-mon said, shifting around until he was draped over Wormmon, since he knew Wormmon liked the weight and warmth of it, found it reassuring. 

“Ne, V-mon,” Wormmon asked, voice quiet but in a way that V-mon didn’t think had anything to do with sleep. “What they’re doing… are you really okay with it?”

V-mon looked over at the twitching antennas. “What do you mean?” he asked, unintentionally matching the quiet tone. 

“The war, I mean.”

V-mon hesitated, continued to watch Wormmon even though all he could see was the top of his head. It wasn’t that they hadn’t had doubts, at first, at the start; they’d never talked about it, but secrets just couldn’t exist between them. That had been ages ago though. Why Wormmon would bring it up now… “That bad out there?” he asked hesitantly, though he didn’t really need to.

The Digital World learned fast that the retribution for hurting Daisuke was much worse than simply losing to the Empire.

As the Kaiser, Ken deployed whole garrisons to avenge Daisuke, started massacres and wildfires, left nothing in his wake. But even before that, even when he’d just been Ichijouji Ken, Chosen Child, he’d destroyed anyone who hurt Daisuke; smaller scale, but just as devastating. Ken never needed anything more than his brain and a reason to be terrifying.

Ken had never taken Daisuke being injured well. V-mon thought he knew that better than perhaps even Wormmon.

Wormmon sighed, whole body heavying with it, head lowering. “Yeah. Really bad.”

V-mon hadn’t asked about whatever Ken’s plans were, didn’t want to know. Maybe he should have at least wondered at it, though he trusted Wormmon to keep Ken from going overboard. Make sure Ken didn’t do anything he’d regret when he stopped being angry. “It’s…” V-mon paused, gathered his thoughts before continuing, “I get why. I mean, what happened to Ryo, and to Ken, it's not right, it’s- what happens to the Chosen _isn’t fair_. It’s not and… something should be done. But at the same time, lately, it's all been…”

“Too much?” Wormmon suggested.

V-mon nodded. “Even Daisuke, lately, he’s done things that are just… cruel, and I don’t understand the point of them. Like, what he’s doing with the Yagami’s. Hikari. It doesn’t feel right.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you ever wish we had just walked away? The four of us, just stayed in the human world full time.”

“I don’t know if Ken remembers how to walk away from the Digital World,” Wormmon said, tone quiet and mournful, “And, if we had, then Ken-chan…”

V-mon winced a little as Wormmon trailed off, antennas drooping. He hadn’t meant to make Wormmon sadder. “Ne, Wormmon, get some sleep, okay?” he suggested, “We can think about it another time. You need to rest.”

Wormmon made a sound of agreement, head dropping fully onto the pillow. “I wish I could make him that sweet little boy again,” Wormmon said, voice displaying he was halfway to sleep. V-mon didn’t respond, didn’t want to risk tearing Wormmon away from sleep he’d need if he was going to keep up with Ken. Still, he silently agreed, wished they could go back to the days Daisuke had first been discovering the Digital World, young and tiny and utterly enchanted.

*****

The Chosen had a day to patch together their wounds. Then, Ichijouji sent a message through Daisuke’s phone. 

“ _You want him? Come and get him_.”

*****

“We should all be going,” Sora insisted, arms crossed over her chest, and Yamato was content to let Taichi handle this fight. Behind Sora, Mimi was nodding fiercely in agreement. “If Yamato can go, so can all of us.”

Yamato didn’t agree with that; while Sora and Mimi were in fine, furious form, Jou looked ready to collapse and Koushiro was barely pieced together enough to provide the little help he already was.

Taichi looked back at him, honestly slightly terrified, and Yamato merely stared back impassively. He wasn’t leader of either team, he wasn’t getting into the middle of this.

Koushiro, voice still a little hollow, told Hikari, “I’ve redirected the Gate to the coordinates he sent us. It’s Empire territory.”

“I know. It’s probably a trap but it might be our only chance to get Agumon back,” Hikari said, “Thanks, Koushiro-san.” 

Koushiro shrugged.

“Agumon’s our friend too. We should all be there, helping,” Sora said.

“Sora,” Taichi said weakly, faltering.

Hikari sighed and interrupted whatever Taichi was going to say next to ask, “Is Biyomon healed enough to fight yet?”

Sora faltered, just a little, before straightening again, jaw going firm.

Hikari didn’t give her a chance to respond and Yamato half wanted to applaud her. “We can’t afford to wait until everyone is healed and we can’t risk bringing injured digimon into this fight. We might not get another shot at getting Agumon back. I’m sorry. But you’re going to have to stay here.”

“Hikari-chan,” Mimi whispered.

“We’ll bring him back. I promise.”

Jou walked forward and gently clasped her shoulders. His smile was a tiny, weary thing as he said, “We’ll wait patiently. Please be careful.”

Everyone gracefully ignored Mimi’s annoyed mutter of “Patiently?”

“We’ll be back,” Hikari promised, then turned to her team. “Let’s go.”

Yamato stood, walked with Taichi to the Gate, followed the younger kids in.

Here was the thing: Yamato wished Taichi had stayed behind as well. Yes, they probably would have had to knock him out before they could have left him behind, but Yamato didn’t like the idea of Taichi facing off against Ichijouji. Ichijouji had come to represent, at least to Taichi, everything that had gone wrong with Motomiya; Taichi blamed him totally for Motomiya’s actions. Though Yamato was hesitant to remove all the culpability from Motomiya, he and Sora both agreed that Taichi needed to blame Ichijouji, at least for now. That pinning everything on him helped him deal with the betrayal, was just part of Taichi grieving.

He didn’t like the thought of putting Taichi in front of Ichijouji when Taichi blamed him for everything; not when he was already shaken by Agumon’s capture. Knowing Taichi, he doubted it would end well.

The coordinates Ichijouji had sent them were almost felt too idyllic to be right. A wide grass plain, interrupted only by rounded boulders. Or maybe not totally idyllic, for a pitch black tower split the skyline. 

Ichijouji was waiting for them, right where he said he would be. He sat patiently, perched on an outcropping of rock. Stingmon stood at his left shoulder, silent and foreboding, the perfect bodyguard. At his right hand, where Daisuke would no doubt have once stood, was Agumon, blank-faced, red-eyed, Ringed. 

The rest of the field was empty, save for them.

Alarms went off in Yamato’s head; he could tell Hikari was the same, even as she directed the team for a landing. There was no army, no sign of one; the only hint of the Empire’s presence was the Ring and the tower nearby.

Ichijouji stood as they moved in, a graceful uncurling of long limbs, the movement precise, calculated. Yamato had been expecting anger, fury, vindictiveness; not this calm, this careful control. He wished Ichijouji wasn’t wearing those glasses, wished he could see his eyes; the flat line of his mouth gave nothing away.

“Something’s wrong,” Iori said quietly, so the Kaiser couldn’t hear. 

“Where’s your army?” Takeru demanded as Pegasmon landed.

Ichijouji’s lips twitched up, the amusement pale and empty. “Don’t worry,” Ichijouji said, ice coated over every word, tone terribly mild, “They’ll come if I call. But this is just us. Personal matters, you see.” 

Taichi stepped forward and demanded, voice furious, “Give him back.”

One slim eyebrow rose above the line of his glasses before his head tilted like he was watching Agumon. “Hm, no. I’m not done with him yet.”

“You’ve done enough,” Iori said.

There was a long moment of silence; Yamato’s skin crawled with the weight of Ichijouji’s judgemental stare. Ichijouji spoke, some of the calm splintered, something terrible and dark and furious leaking through, “His skull was in pieces.”

Taichi looked a little sick suddenly; Hikari made a sound of distress. Yamato hadn’t seen it, but Taichi had told him about it; about the blood on Motomiya’s face, how it matted his hair. Had it been that bad?

Uncaring of the distress his words caused, Ichijouji continued, “Broken ribs. Burns across the whole of his back. He’ll be scarred for life. You did that to him.”

“What about what you’ve done to him?” Taichi asked, demanded. Yamato felt his heart stop, couldn’t help the quick cut of his eyes towards Taichi, though he couldn’t summon any actual surprise. Taichi didn’t see him, didn’t answer Yamato’s silent demand of _what the hell are you doing?_ His face was contorted, beyond anger, into hate, disgust.

“Me?” Ichijouji echoed.

 _Do not_ , Yamato thought at Taichi as hard as he could.

“Daisuke was a good kid before you,” Taichi said, ignoring the stern glare. He continued to practically snarl the words at Ichijouji, at that calm, mild expression. “Kind, gentle. Loving. God, he loved you so much. And you used that, twisted it for your own gain. How many has he murdered in your name? You- you destroyed him.”

The resulting silence was total. Stingmon shifted, breaking his own stillness, previous passivity breaking into a stance that was almost aggressive. He still didn’t speak.

Ichijouji took longer to react. It happened second by second, ice breaking, calm washed away as his temper finally broke. His rage was, in almost every way, much worse than Motomiya’s. “Destroyed him? I love him!” Ichijouji snapped, voice rising with every word.

“You use him!” Taichi shouted before Ichijouji could continue. “He does all your dirty work while you hide out in your fucking base.”

“Daisuke has never been anything but my equal!” Ichijouji cut in, barely before Taichi had finished. 

“Of course,” Taichi scoffed, “Equals. That’s why you’re the Kaiser and he’s just the Knight.”

Ichijouji’s mouth twisted, caught somewhere between fury and disgust. “You want to complain about our titles, look to your own. It was the Digital World who named him that, not me. Daisuke is my partner, in all things. You understand nothing.” Ichijouji, bold and fearless in his anger, turned away from them to face Agumon; he ignored Taichi’s wordless, outraged shout, and held out his digivice.

 _What?_ Yamato had time to think, blank with confusion. The light engulfed Agumon. _Wait, what_?

The light disappeared and, impossibly, Skullgreymon stared down at them.

 _Oh fuck_ , he thought, though it felt a little distant, separated by his resounding confusion. _He can do that?_

Skullgreymon shrieked, high and loud, splitting the air. It struggled to move, as if under some great weight. As his struggles continued, Stingmon swooped forward, grabbed Ichijouji, and flew them up out of reach.

Skullgreymon shrieked again, claws lashing out at Stingmon as the other digimon retreated. With his current target out of reach, Skullgreymon turned away, towards the Chosen. Yamato started as the ground shook with Skullgreymon’s approach and unfroze. Hikari was already turned and heading for Nefertimon. “Up, up, up!” Hikari shouted at them.

They obeyed immediately, Yamato jumping up behind Takeru on Pegasmon, and were soon high in the air, circling above the roaring Skullgreymon. “This is bad,” Pegasmon called.

Hikari made a sound of agreement, watching as Skullgreymon continued to roar up at them, furious. Yamato looked around, found Stingmon and the Kaiser drawing further back, leaving them to deal with Skullgreymon. Ichijouji stared back at them, smirk edging at his lips, oddly patient in his rage.

“The Kaiser!” Yamato shouted, pointing.

Hikari looked over at them briefly, then back down at Skullgreymon. “Ignore him. We’re here for Agumon. We have to stop him.”

“How exactly are we supposed to do that?” Digmon demanded, eying Skullgreymon uneasily.

“Last time, he couldn’t hold that digivolution for long,” Takeru said, though the note of worry in his voice betrayed the surety of his words, “We just, maybe we can just wear him down. Contain him.”

“Do it,” Hikari ordered.

“Skullgreymon is a Perfect level digimon, and a really strong one,” Takeru added, “So you can’t get hit, not even once. Understand?”

Miyako and Iori nodded in understanding.

Skullgreymon, tired of his prey so far out of reach, shifted and the missile on his back flew up. “ _Ground Zero._ ”

“Scatter!” Nefertimon called, though many of them were already moving to do so. Despite Pegasmon wheeling them out of the way, when the missile exploded, the shockwave caught them full on.

Takeru screamed as the force tossed them end over end; Yamato, unused to flying, couldn’t find the proper grip and was flung off. His own scream choked off as his throat seized shut in terror, the world pinwheeling around him. The wind pounded in his ears; he heard someone shout his name.

Holsmon flew under and caught him, Miyako’s hands scrambling wildly at his shoulders, neck, back in an effort to hold him in place. Yamato looked up, breathing wildly, heart bruising his ribs with its pounding. Miyako looked windswept herself, hat knocked askew and hair sticking up oddly; Holsmon flew a little shakily, secondary feathers knocked crooked. Miyako smiled at him, tight and thin, nerves and adrenaline shining bright behind it. “Don’t worry,” she told him, “You get used to it.”

Yamato stared. “Get used to… falling?”

“Yeah,” Miyako agreed, tone bright, “It happens.”

Before he could say in response, if he could even think of something to say in response to that, Miyako’s head turned, focused on whatever signal Hikari was giving; the warmth fell from her face, replaced with something tougher, battle-ready. 

“Hold on,” Miyako ordered, leaning into Holsmon as they flew back into the battle.

Yamato officially hated flying. 

Holsmon flew in circles over Skullgreymon. Yamato could see the others, keeping their distance, trying not to create too big a target. Trying to keep Skullgreymon’s attention divided. He could see Takeru and Pegasmon, both looking as windswept as Miyako and Holsmon; Takeru was sans hat, but he looked otherwise fine. Gabumon was still with Digmon, clinging to Iori’s shoulders, shaken but unharmed. Some of the tension crowding Yamato’s chest loosened.

The missiles kept coming. Though they avoided a direct hit, the force of each explosion knocked them around viciously; Yamato came within inches of falling off twice more, and Takeru was thrown once, though Pegasmon recovered quickly and caught him. Gabumon, now all but choking Iori in his attempts to stay on Digmon, was looking very nauseous. 

Skullgreymon roared as they barely managed to dodge around another attack. Yamato tried to breathe regularly, nerves shot by all the near misses. Skullgreymon slashed up at Pegasmon again, but couldn’t reach; he couldn’t seem to focus on any one of them to target specifically, just lashed out wildly at any who came too close.

“Something’s wrong,” Taichi shouted from behind Hikari. Yamato turned to look over at him, took in the way his eyes were too wide, wild at the edges. There as a strain to his face; concern for his partner clear, but also confusion, bewilderment. “He’s too… scattered.”

“The Ring might be affecting him,” Iori called.

“That’s my point. Shouldn’t Ichijouji be controlling him?”

Yamato watched Hikari’s head turn, away from Skullgreymon, to some distant, dark spot, a shadow against the sky. Yamato squinted, spotted Ichijouji still watching them, far out of the way of the battle. Wondered why he didn’t bother to interfer.

Hikari looked back down at Skullgreymon, eyes wide with some sort of realization. “Ichijouji can’t control him,” she said.

“What?” Miyako demanded.

“Because he’s a Perfect. When have you ever seen a Perfect digimon Ringed? I don't think the Rings can hold something that powerful.”

Another missile arched into the air. The group scattered; Yamato tucked himself closer to Holsmon to brace as the shockwave hit, grit his teeth and struggled to be calm as Holsmon buckled briefly under the pressure before righting himself and continuing on.

Takeru screamed.

Yamato jerked up, looked around wildly. Saw Pegasmon spiralling off in one direction, by himself. Takeru fell through the sky, a long streak of yellow. 

Heart in his throat, he watched helpless as Takeru fell, watched as Nefertimon dived after him, despite the two people already weighing her down. Hikari caught Takeru’s hand, held tight even as Nefertimon was dragged down by the weight. A few seconds, then Hikari let him go and Nefertimon flew away. 

Hikari had barely let him go when Digmon followed in her wake, Iori catching him in much the same fashion as Hikari. Digmon fared better than Nefertimon did, but between Iori, Gabumon, and Takeru, he wasn’t regaining the altitude he’d lost to catch Takeru. Rather than trying, he began a controlled drop.

A few feet from the ground, Iori let go; Digmon flew up as soon as he did. Takeru hit the ground in a roll, came out of it sprinting. Pegasmon, finally recovered, swooped in until he was running alongside him; Takeru reached over, curled his hands in Pegasmon’s mane, then threw himself onto his back. It wasn’t a perfect seat, but Takeru pulled himself into place; Pegasmon galloped a few feet, then took off into the air, hooves tucking in just in time to miss the swipe of Skullgreymon’s claws.

Yamato let out a heavy breath when he saw Takeru safely in the sky, finally looking away from him to the rest of the team. Gabumon definitely looked nauseous now, clinging to Iori who looked thoroughly unruffled. Taichi hadn’t taken his eyes off Skullgreymon; Yamato’s stomach dropped at the lost, desperate look on his face. 

Miyako interrupted his thoughts, shouting back at him, “Hey, you’ve fought Skullgreymon before, right?”

“For a given definition of fought, sure,” Yamato said.

She looked back at him, eyes huge, anxiety on a tight leash. “How long until he wears out?”

“I don’t know,” Yamato said back, “It was just one fight and all we did was run.” 

He could see her grit her teeth and turn back to the fight. “We might have to run ourselves,” he heard her mutter, “I don’t know how much longer we can keep this up.”

“We can’t leave him,” Yamato said, heard his voice match some of the desperation in Taichi’s face. In this, he agreed with Hikari; Taichi couldn't lose Agumon, not now.

Another missile arched towards them. Holsmon barely skated out of the way this time, being too slow from exhaustion; Yamato watched it fly past, heart in his throat, watched in arch away.

It hit the tower.

Yamato watched the tower explode, frozen with surprise; forgot to brace properly and barely managed to cling on as the shockwave hit. Holsmon was once again batted about and this time, maybe as surprised as Yamato, maybe just tired, when his wings buckled, it took precious seconds to right himself. Holsmon pulled them out of a fall only a few feet from the ground. 

Another missile arched over them, aimed for Nefertimon and Pegasmon, circling above. They both managed to dodge the direct hit, but the shock wave hit Holsmon full on. It slammed them the last few feet into the ground.

Yamato was tossed from Holsmon’s back from the landing, rolled away with a pained groan. He rose onto his elbows, scanning wildly for Skullgreymon. Nefertimon and Pegasmon flew over them, racing towards Skullgreymon to distract him so they could recover. Behind him, Holsmon was struggling back to his feet, trying his best to stay pitched over Miyako protectively. Yamato shuffled over to her worriedly. “Are you okay?”

She nodded, barely giving herself time to recover before she was pushing herself back to her feet. “I’m good. Told you, you get used to it.”

Digmon flew over them, Iori’s face a mask of worry as he looked down at them. Gabumon barely waited for them to come to a stop before he jumped down, hurrying to Yamato’s side. “I’m okay, buddy,” Yamato assured before he could ask, settling one hand on his head.

He looked over at where Nefertimon and Pegasmon were distracting Skullgreymon, at where the tower had stood. Back to Holsmon, who seemed to be using all his energy just to stand. “Take a minute,” he ordered, making Miyako and Holsmon look up at him in surprise. “Me and Gabumon will cover for you.”

“Eh? Are you sure?” she asked.

He nodded, turned to his partner. Gabumon smiled and said, “Let’s get him back.”

Once Garurumon stood in front of him, Yamato jumped onto his back. Together, they raced towards where Skullgreymon was. 

In a way, Garurumon made things easier. With a ground target, even a very fast one, Skullgreymon resorted more to lashing out with his claws. Less missiles, less explosions, less shockwaves to rattle his teeth. The claws were their own kind of terror; there was nothing quite like the sight of one of those skeletal hands reaching for them, but he trusted Garurumon to keep him safe.

It felt like it had barely been a few seconds, then Holsmon flew overhead again, diving around Skullgreymon. Yamato watched as Holsmon ducked between strikes, showing only a little of the exhaustion that had haunted him previously. They rallied quick.

Another missile arched up, towards where Holsmon was flying away. Holsmon dodged the direct attack; the shockwave, closer than the previous ones, lifted Garurumon off his feet and sent them both flying. Garurumon managed to land on his feet, in an acrobatic twist Yamato barely managed to stay seated through, and skidded to a stop, now several dozen feet away from the team.

Skullgreymon was suddenly engulfed in light.Yamato sagged a little, slumping down against Garurumon in relief as Skullgreymon dedigivolved to Agumon. He watched as everyone began to fly down; Taichi didn’t wait for Nefertimon to finish circling in for a landing, jumping off a foot above the ground to run to his partner. The last of the tension seeped out of Yamato’s chest, smile of relief twitching at his lips as he watched Taichi embrace the unconscious Agumon, clutching him tight to his chest.

Stingmon practically barrelled into him and Garurumon.

Unprepared, relaxing at the perceived end of the battle, Yamato couldn’t brace himself, was knocked off and hit the ground with bruising force. He groaned, but forced himself up onto his elbows, looking around for Garurumon. His breath caught, fear flooding in, when he saw Garurumon pinned to the ground, Stingmon holding him in place with blade raised. “Wait,” he shouted, not sure what he expected it to accomplish, the idea Stingmon would listen to him laughable.

Stingmon’s head turned, half out of surprise. Garurumon used the distraction, blue fire filling his mouth. “ _Fox Fire!”_

Stingmon moved at the last second, flying off and away. He immediately landed a few short feet away, tensed for battle. Yamato pushed himself up onto his knees, watching as Garurumon flipped up onto his feet, snarling across at Stingmon.

“You hurt my friends,” Garurumon accused, words growled deep in his chest.

“You hurt mine first,” Stingmon said, voice low, furious, unbending steel in every letter.

Garurumon snarled, hunching down further as if to pounce. Then, his eyes flickered briefly to Yamato, as if to check on him, and went very wide. “Yamato!”

Yamato wondered, suddenly, too late, where exactly Ichijouji was.

A hand grabbed his hair, yanking his head up and back. Yamato shouted in pain, just as a foot shoved at one of his knees, forcing him completely off balance, so the only thing keeping him off the ground was the hand in his hair. 

He gritted his teeth, looking up at Ichijouji. Ichijouji stared back at him dispassionately. “Ishida Yamato,” he said, and Yamato wished that ice was back in his voice instead of the utter fury still there from his argument with Taichi, “I’ve heard about you.”

Yamato did not like the way he shaped those words.

Ichijouji yanked at his hair again, straining his neck and keeping him off balance. Yamato cried out, eyes watering, heard Garurumon shout his name. Yamato reached up, gripped Ichijouji’s wrist tightly, then used the grip to simultaneously yank Ichijouji forward and throw himself at Ichijouji’s legs. Ichijouji released him, stumbling briefly in surprise. Yamato rolled away, hurriedly throwing himself to his feet.

Garurumon attempted to throw himself towards them, only for Stingmon to stop him. Yamato tensed as Ichijouji approached him again and tried to punch him.

Ichijouji stepped out of the way of the punch, grabbing his wrist and hooking a foot under one of his to trip him. Yamato hit the ground hard, air forced from his lungs; Ichijouji pressed one knee against his stomach, forcing out the rest of his air. Yamato gasped for air desperately, tried to shove Ichijouji off but he couldn’t find leverage or strength. 

Ichijouji’s hand wrapped around his throat. Yamato choked, grasping at his hand wildly, lungs beginning to burn. Ichijouji’s mouth was twisted into a snarl as he bared all his weight down. Yamato struggled, legs kicking out weakly, beginning to feel dizzy.

Ichijouji’s glasses slid down the bridge of his nose, revealing the impossible blue of his eyes; they seemed to almost glow with his fury. Yamato’s head was spinning now, spots dancing across his vision. He tugged at Ichijouji’s wrist again, then let go, hands falling nerveless to the ground.

The sky swam above him, darker by the second.

The weight lifted off his chest suddenly, hand releasing his throat. Yamato coughed violently, trying to suck in air between, never managing anything deep enough to help the burn in his chest. He rolled onto his side, still gasping desperately; his throat hurt fiercely with every breath.

Ichijouji stood only a few feet away, back turned to him; Yamato could see the rapid rise and fall of Ichijouji’s shoulders, wondered at it in a dizzy, muddled way.

Garurumon appeared in his line of sight next, prowling in front of him, between him and Ichijouji and Stingmon, hovering loyally at his partner’s side. 

Yamato heard someone shout his name then there were hands, helping him into a sitting position, clutching desperately at his shoulders. Yamato looked up, found Taichi kneeling right in front of him, eyes huge with worry and maybe a little fear. _Taichi’s never scared_ , Yamato thought dizzily, even though a more cognizant part of his brain knew that hadn’t been true in years. “Yamato, oh fuck, are you okay?” Taichi asked.

Yamato nodded, head pounding, still dizzy, but it was growing easier to breathe by the second. He leaned into Taichi’s hold, let the other boy prop him up; trusted Taichi and Garurumon to protect him. Taichi’s hands moved to better brace him, one around the curve of his skull, supporting his head; the other wrapped around his shoulders, keeping him pressed close to Taichi’s side.

“Yamato!”

Takeru.

Yamato raised his head again, looked up as his brother kneeled in front of him. Taichi’s hand on his head disappeared, letting Takeru cup his face and angle his head back. “Oh god, your throat,” Takeru said, fear and horror in every word. 

“It’s okay,” he tried to say, but the words shot needles into his throat on the way out, came out rough and quiet and sounding nothing like his voice.

“We’ll get him to Jou-san,” Hikari reassured.

Taichi’s other hand disappeared along with his heat. Yamato watched as Taichi stood up, took a step so he was in front of Yamato. The fear and worry was gone from his face, replaced with a fury par with Ichijouji’s as he glared across at the Kaiser. “Leave him alone,” Taichi said, voice a low snarl, “He has nothing to do with this.”

Ichijouji turned to look at them, sunglasses in place, expression blank and cool. “Don’t be naive,” Ichijouji scoffed, “He has everything to do with this.”

Yamato remembered “ _I’ve heard about you_ ,” but he also remembered: Motomiya on the soccer field, smiling like the sun, soft in a way that was a complete lie. The smugness that had the time he had thought friendly, teasing. “ _You’re threesome’s here_ ,” Motomiya had said, deliberately bland. 

It had been a joke, those few, brief times they’d met, one Yamato hadn’t put much thought into. But of course, Motomiya had told Ichijouji, probably told him everything. So, when Motomiya had gotten hurt, Ichijouji had targeted Agumon, the team Taichi’s sister led, Yamato himself.

(At least, he thought, suddenly fiercely glad for it, Sora was still in the human world, far from where Ichijouji could get to her.)

“Don’t you get it?” Ichijouji demanded, “What’s happening is very simple. _You hurt someone I love_. So now, I hurt someone you love.”

Taichi flinched back, expression breaking into that terrible, devastated thing it had been since they’d found Gabumon. Yamato swallowed, though it hurt; wanted to claw off the smirk forming on Ichijouji’s face. He was so, so tired of Taichi looking like he’d been gutted. Wished Ichijouji and Motomiya would stop finding all of Taichi’s soft spots, stop ripping them open for everyone to see.

“And I promise you,” Ichijouji said, and here his tone lowered, went dark, “I’m just getting started.”

“Stop acting so smug,” Iori said, hard and fierce, “You lost this fight.”

“Lost?” Ichijouji echoed. “What makes you think I’ve lost?”

“We got Agumon back,” Hikari said.

Ichijouji’s head turned; Yamato followed his gaze, saw Agumon laying passed out on Holsmon’s back, Ring gone. Miyako stepped forward, as if to hide Agumon from Ichijouji’s view; Taichi all but snarled, every muscle in his body going tense. “My intention was _never_ to keep him,” Ichijouji said, “I assure you, if I wanted him, you couldn’t keep him from me. Not forever, not for every second of this war. Not _all_ of them.”

“Leave them alone,” Hikari said, eyes never wavering from Ichijouji, all but daring him to try. 

Ichijouji smirked. “You can’t protect them,” he mocked, “Do you even realize how truly vulnerable your partners are?”

“If it’s that easy, then why not go after them earlier?” Hikari asked.

“Rules of war. Never create an enemy who thinks they have nothing left to lose.” Ichijouji leaned forward a little as he said, slow and deliberate. “Remember, the next time you raise a hand against Daisuke, you have _so much_ left to lose.”

Ichijouji stepped back and into Stingmon, who swept him up immediately. “Now this has been fun,” Ichijouji said and his smirk was clearly aimed at Taichi, “But I must be going.”

Yamato watched as Stingmon flew off, Ichijouji secure in his arms. Once they were out of sight, most of the tension left Taichi’s body. He sighed then turned and dropped down next to Yamato. “You okay?”

“I’m fine, don’t worry,” Yamato assured, nodding.

“Oh thank god,” Taichi said, and the last of the tight lines around his eyes eased off. “When I turned around and saw him choking you, I thought-”

“I’m fine,” Yamato said again, more firmly.

“We should get you back,” Takeru said, tone worried, “Your neck is definitely gonna bruise. I’d feel better if Jou-san looked at it.”

Yamato nodded his agreement, refused to let Taichi help him up because he didn’t need it and he certainly didn’t need Taichi feeling even guiltier. Taichi, once he seemed convinced that Yamato really was okay, turned away and walked towards Holsmon. Yamato watched him settle a gentle hand Agumon’s snout, expression heartbreakingly tender. 

Yamato looked over at Hikari, who was also watching Taichi. She glanced over at him when she felt him watching, smile all relief. He nodded at her and said, “Okay. Let’s go home.”

*****

Ken closed the door to the living area behind himself; with no slaves allowed inside without his express permission, the action effectively sealed him off from the rest of the base. From everything that would require the Kaiser. He leaned back against the door with a heavy sigh, shoulders slumping, suddenly exhausted as the last of the adrenaline left his body.

His hands burned, still; he couldn’t shake the sense memory of Ishida’s throat under his grip. How very fragile the other boy had felt. How his struggles had slowly weakened.

He hadn’t… he hadn’t meant to go that far. He never should have touched Ishida.

It hadn’t been the plan, not until Yagami had opened his fucking mouth. He’d stopped thinking at some point in the middle of that resulting fury, had only been intent on making sure Yagami suffered even more than he’d already planned for. He’d almost killed Ishida.

He didn’t want the Chosen dead. It hadn’t been easy remembering that; he’d heard Wormmon say it dozens of times since Daisuke had been brought back. But it was the truth, when he was clear headed enough to remember it: he didn’t want the Chosen dead, just gone.

That’s why he hadn’t brought back up. He hadn’t trusted himself not to give the kill order once he was actually face to face with them. Stingmon he could trust to ignore him if he gave the order but anyone else brought along would have ended with bodies.

And he’d almost killed Ishida; would have, if Stingmon hadn’t called him back to his sense.

Ken sighed again, tried to shake off the unease, the tingling in his palms. He pushed himself off from the door and went about slowly taking his boots off, hanging his coat up. Then went the gloves and whip, placed onto the waiting table; finally, his sunglasses. Each item put away felt like weight taken off his shoulders but also a shield stripped away. He felt light, raw, almost ragged.

Whatever he’d almost done, his plan was complete; pain paid, lesson taught, and everyone back where he wanted them. It was a relief, a release, to think it, to be able to close his eyes and let go of the anger that had kept him on his feet for the past week. 

_(An explosion- just like before- there was_ so much _blood. He couldn’t lose Daisuke, he couldn’t, he couldn’t, he couldn’t-)_

Ken squeezed his eyes closed, shook off the thoughts quickly. Pain was blooming in the back of his head, funneling down his neck, pounding with every heartbeat. He pressed his hand to the back of his neck, where the skin always felt too hot, and dug in with his fingers, tried to rub away the building head ache. With any luck, it wouldn’t develop into a migraine.

“Ken-chan?” Wormmon called.

Ken dropped his hand, looked up at his partner. Wormmon watched him from further down the hallway, eyes huge with worry. “I’m alright, Wormmon,” he assured.

Wormmon continued to watch him. “Are you sure? Is it your neck again?”

“It’s fine,” Ken said, “Why don’t you go ahead and check on Daisuke and Vee? I’m just going to get cleared up, then I’ll join you.”

“Okay,” Wormmon said, but he sounded hesitant. Ken watched the little digimon head for the bedroom, occasionally glancing back at him. 

Ken stepped up onto the genkan, socks sliding a little on the hardwood, and slowly shuffled to the half bath just off the kitchen. He closed that door behind him as well. He turned the sink on, splashed the water against his face, tried to scrub off the fine, barely noticeable layer of dirt that came from flying. It was starting to itch. He had no idea how Daisuke had gotten used to it.

( _Not him, not him, not someone else, not_ Daisuke _, he couldn’t lose Daisuke_ )

Ken scrubbed roughly at his face again, cleaning off the last of the dirt and trying to banish those thoughts from his head. Daisuke was fine, resting, recovering at a reassuringly steady pace. He let out a heavy breath, wiped a wet hand across the back of his neck; the water helped ease some of the building tension, leached out the heat.

Blood splattered against the sink.

Ken blinked down at the splatter with a kind of dull surprise. Then he slowly looked up at the mirror, only managing vague irritation when he saw the blood dripping from his nose. He hadn’t even noticed it had started bleeding. “Not now,” he muttered tiredly, pressing a hand to his nose.

The bleeding was slight and slow but it didn’t stop. It continued on for long enough that his sleeve cuffs were soaked through with water and he was sure there were stains now and his headache was getting worse and he hadn’t even _talked_ with Daisuke in three days and, _fuck_ , he was so tired, he’d been angry for so long and so-

“Ken-chan?” Wormmon called from the hall.

Ken started at the interruption. “Y-yeah?” he called. He braced himself against the sink again, watched the blood mix with water then swirl down the drain; the motions were soothing in a way, his thoughts slowing to something manageable.

“Daisuke-kun’s awake,” Wormmon said and Ken’s heart leapt, “He’s wondering where you are.”

“I’ll be right out,” Ken said. Only he couldn’t go to Daisuke bleeding. Daisuke would panic, Vee would panic, Daisuke would go wandering off to some corner of the Digital World with broken ribs and a concussion. Ken wanted him here, safe, where nothing could hurt him again. “Just give me a minute.”

“...Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Ken said, made sure to soften his tone as much as he could. He hated worrying Wormmon. 

The blood was finally lessening, Ken registered with relief. He cleaned off as much as he could, shut off the sink, and dried his face and hands before stepping out. Wormmon looked up at him worriedly, blue eyes big in a way that always made him feel bad. Ken tried to smile reassuringly.

“I’m going to get you the pain killers,” Wormmon said, turning and leaving before Ken could protest.

Ken huffed as he watched Wormmon walk away, but he didn’t try to stop him. Instead, he headed for the bedroom, steps a little quicker than normal. He really needed to see Daisuke again.

Ken had stayed long enough to be sure Daisuke hadn’t fallen into a coma from the concussion; he’d stayed for the first two times Daisuke had woken, muzzy from pain and medicine, still too out of it to remember anything the next time he’d woken up. He’d wanted to stay longer, but there had been work to do. Ken had involved himself in the logistics of revenge; he’d tried to be there as Daisuke grew more cognizant, but he’d always seemed to just miss Daisuke being awake.

He could hear Vee laughing as he grew closer to the bedroom, bright and loud and free, more reassuring of Daisuke’s health than any of the reports he’d been getting. “Daisuke,” Vee shouted, words chopped by laughter, “Daisuke, stop, it tickles!”

Daisuke responded, too low for Ken to make out the words, but just the sound of his voice eased the last knot in his chest. Ken had to pause just before the door, to lean against the wall and take in a deep breath, almost dizzy with relief. 

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Vee said, voice going quieter, “I was so worried. We all were.”

“I’m okay now,” Daisuke said and Ken was just close enough to make out the words now.

“I’m so sorry.”

“No, no, don’t be. This wasn’t your fault. No one blames you.”

“Ken does.”

Ken’s heart stopped, dropped to his feet. _No_.

“Now I doubt that’s true,” Daisuke said, soft and warm, “Ken loves you.”

The answering silence was very telling.

Ken wanted to be sick. He and V-mon hadn’t always gotten along, they had gotten off to something of a rough start, but it hadn’t been like that in years. He loved V-mon. He’d thought… he’d thought V-mon knew that.

“Ah, Vee,” Daisuke sighed.

Ken gulped thickly, straightened, and entered the bedroom. Daisuke was sitting cross-legged on the bed, Vee in his lap. They both looked up at him, Daisuke’s eyes bright and clear and alert. Pressure built behind Ken’s eyes suddenly.

“Hey,” Daisuke said softly. A smile twitched at his lips, small, warm, affectionate. “I heard you were up to no good.”

“All done now,” Ken said. He climbed onto the bed, shuffled over to Daisuke on his knees. He paused briefly to press a kiss to V-mon’s head, watched his eyes go big and watery; Daisuke’s smile turned so soft it made Ken’s chest ache. He reached for Daisuke, placed both hands gently on his cheeks as he looked him over; ignored his tiny, surprised flinch at how cold ken’s hands were. “Are you okay?”

“Well, don’t think I’m going shirtless to the beach any time soon,” Daisuke said, smile aimed to soothe him.

Ken huffed, not quite able to laugh, and watched Daisuke’s smile dim a little. “Not like you could do that before,” he said, trying to match Daisuke's tone. His voice choked in the middle though, turned a little bitter as he thought about the other scars Daisuke had gained over the years. Not just from helping with the Empire, but from back when they’d fought for the Digital World. Most were small things, faded to barely noticeable over time; there was a heavy knot of scarring on his back though, impossible to miss.

“Hey.” Daisuke gently gripped his chin, tilted his head to look him in the eyes. “I’m okay now. I promise.”

Ken knew that; he’d exaggerated the extent of Daisuke’s injuries to the Chosen. The guilt on their faces had been so satisfying. Daisuke had two broken ribs; a concussion as well, but hardly as bad as his ‘skull in pieces’. The majority of the burns would heal with probably nothing more than a faint discoloration. Daisuke got lucky; the only serious scars he’d end up with would be where the metal clasps had superheated against his skin.

He gulped thickly and asked, “How’s the pain?”

“Good. Wormmon’s been bringing me all kinds of pills,” Daisuke said, “It’s a lot better than when I first woke up.”

“I’m glad,” Ken said. He leaned in, slid his hands around Daisuke’s neck, careful of the few burns that high up. He buried his face in Daisuke’s hair, breathed him in. He smelled like antiseptic and soap, ( _blood, trapped under his nails, the smell thick in the back of his throat; skin burned red, black, blistering; he couldn’t go through this_ again). Daisuke nuzzled in against his collar, arms wrapping around his back, steady and strong and warm.

It was suddenly all together too much. 

Ken was crying before he realized it, clutching Daisuke close, sobbing into his hair. He’d been so angry, so focused on revenge, there’d been no room for fear. He’d swallowed it down, buried it where it couldn’t touch him. He hadn’t even let himself be afraid when he’d patched Daisuke together, during those long days where he waited for Daisuke to wake up. But it was over now, done with, Daisuke was going to be fine. There was nothing more holding Ken together.

“Ken?” Daisuke asked, voice going loud with worry. V-mon echoed him, pressing against his side.

“I thought I’d lost you,” Ken choked out, shaking full-bodied tremors. He’d watched Daisuke fall on the surveillance, thought for one long dark moment that Daisuke was dead.

“Shh, love, no, I’m okay. I promise,” Daisuke whispered. 

V-mon was blubbering with concern, trying to climb up onto his shoulders, nuzzling in against his neck. Daisuke’s hands rubbed circles in his back while slowly negotiating them downwards until they were lying on their sides, still wrapped around each other.

Ken kept crying, unwilling to let Daisuke go. Daisuke didn’t protest, let himself be held and cried on, steadfast and warm and, oh, Ken would be lost without him. Ken’s crying slowly eased into hiccups and once those began to ease off, Daisuke gently pulled him away and wiped at the tear tracks on his cheeks. “There we go,” he whispered.

Ken sniffled a little, let Daisuke work. Wormmon was laying on the pillow above him, watching with huge, worried eyes and Ken wasn’t sure exactly when Wormmon had come back; V-mon had burrowed his way between him and Daisuke so he could comfort both of his favorite humans at the same time. Ken couldn’t bare the thought of losing any of them.

“I’m okay now,” Ken promised. His head hurt worse now, and he felt scrubbed raw, the way that always came after crying too much.

Daisuke’s answering hum reverberated through Ken’s chest. “Okay,” Daisuke said softly. Daisuke wrapped his arms around him again, tugged Ken further in until he had another face full of red hair. “Is this good?”

Daisuke’s voice was right against his ear, quiet, affectionate; Ken sighed in contentment and nodded.

“Let’s not move,” Daisuke suggested.

Ken sighed. It sounded so nice, he was so tired. A thought registered, as if from very far away, because even this worn out, it was hard to get his brain to shut up. “You have to call your parents,” he said. Daisuke’s groan was one of distinct annoyance. “The Chosen have been covering for you, but I don’t know if it's working.”

“How did you swing that?” Daisuke asked, very distinctly not moving.

“Hm, guilt trip. You should call, make sure everything’s okay.”

Daisuke sighed. “Moving, though.”

Ken smiled a little, glanced up at where Wormmon was lying. The worry had eased out of his eyes and he now looked content to fall asleep with them. Ken could see the pills Wormmon had promised laying on the bedside table and his head cheerfully reminded him it hurt. “Hey, make you a deal,” he said, “Wormmon brought me some painkillers. Why don’t you call while I take them, then we can go back to resting?”

There was a moment of silence, then Daisuke sighed, rolled away a little. “Vee, phone please?” he asked.

V-mon scrambled off from between them, over to where Daisuke’s things had been put. Ken pushed himself into a sitting position, reaching over for the pills; Wormmon blinked up at him slowly. “Does it hurt?” Wormmon asked.

“Just from the crying,” Ken said. Oh look, Wormmon had brought a glass of water too. Wonderful. Ken slowly slipped at the water, despite wanting to down the whole thing quickly. He watched as Daisuke rolled over onto his back fully, V-mon clambering back onto the bed and handing off the phone. Ken grinned a little at the expression on Daisuke’s face.

Once the glass was empty, Ken laid back down, shuffling about until he could rest his head on Daisuke’s chest without putting too much weight on his ribs. Daisuke made a sound of reassurance without Ken having to ask if the position was okay. Ken sighed as Daisuke’s free hand began to run through his hair, listening to the steady beat of Daisuke’s heart. He could just hear the phone ringing.

V-mon, task done, curled back up with them, this time draping himself over Ken’s waist. Ken reached down and scratched at the mon’s ears. “I was never mad at you,” he said quietly as he heard the call connect.

“ _Daisuke? Finally.”_

V-mon’s eyes widened. “You heard that?”

“Yes. You’re family and I love you,” Ken said. V-mon’s eyes turned wet and Ken pretended he didn’t hear V-mon sniffling as he butted up into Ken’s hand. Poor thing had had one hell of a week. 

“ _You know, you could have done more than text us_.”

Ken looked up in time to see Daisuke roll his eyes. “Yes, yes, next time- right.” Daisuke sighed. “I’ll be back soon.” Daisuke hung up, tossed the phone onto the bed next to him. 

“Alright?” Ken asked.

“Peachy,” Daisuke agreed, “Honestly, number of times this has happened, they’re probably used to it.”

Ken hummed a bit, refused to think about all their other near misses. 

“Ken,” V-mon said and the hesitancy in his voice had Ken glancing down worriedly. “Your hands are cold.”

Daisuke laughed brightly, annoyance fading in the wake of V-mon’s words, and reached down to grab Ken’s hands. V-mon made a squeaking sound and sat up. “I didn’t say to stop!” V-mon protested.

Daisuke ignored his partner, cupping Ken’s hands in both of his. “Ah, you’re freezing,” Daisuke complained and began to rub at Ken’s hands. 

“It’s my sleeves,” Ken said, letting Daisuke do whatever he wanted. V-mon was still grumbling, making Wormmon laugh a little. “I got them wet earlier when I was cleaning up.”

Daisuke nodded, attention bent to Ken’s hands. He paused suddenly, frowning down at his shirt cuffs. “Is this blood?” Daisuke asked, rubbing at the stains Ken couldn’t wash out with merely water. “Shit, are you bleeding?”

“No, no,” Ken said and had to push at Daisuke’s shoulder when the other boy tried to get up. 

Daisuke’s eyes were suddenly frantic and he kept resisting Ken’s efforts to keep him down. Daisuke’s hands moved to his shoulders, running down his arms, checking for injuries. He wouldn’t relax and Ken sat up so he could better force Daisuke back down without hurting him.

“Relax, I’m not hurt. Will you- will you stop?” Ken demanded and Daisuke froze, looked up at him with huge eyes. Ken stole his hands back, gently framed Daisuke’s face. “I’m fine. I promise. Stop worrying about me. You’re the one who’s still recovering.”

“I always worry,” Daisuke said, but he was sinking back into the bed obediently. “You know I don’t like it when you fight without me. I’m supposed to take care of you.”

Ken huffed a little at the words, a little insulted. Still, Daisuke always meant well. “Silly boy,” he whispered, exasperated and affectionate, “Who ever told you that?”

“I wonder,” Daisuke muttered, and something a little bitter flickered across his face, not aimed at anything in particular.

Ken ignored it to say, “We take care of each other.”

Daisuke nodded in agreement, let Ken tilt his head up for a quick kiss. When Ken pulled back, Daisuke said, “Your hands _are_ cold.”

Ken huffed, pulling away completely and holding up his hands. “I see how it is. Next time you can recover alone.”

“Ah, Ken, no,” Daisuke said, leaning forward to wrap around his waist. “Come on, lay down again. It was a deal.”

Ken pretended to be annoyed as he shuffled back down. V-mon corrected back into his former position and looked up beseechingly, asking, “Can we go back to the scratches?”

Daisuke reached down before Ken could. V-mon immediately balked. “No, not you. You’re not good at it.”

An insulted expression took over Daisuke’s face and he pulled his hand back. Ken chuckled and took up scratching between V-mon’s ears again. “There we go,” he said, watched V-mon’s eyes close in pleasure.

“Traitor,” Daisuke muttered.

Ken closed his eyes, spent a few minutes listening to the steady beat of Daisuke’s heart, the four of them breathing. “Daisuke,” he said eventually. Daisuke made an inquiring sound. “I don’t want you two going out there alone anymore. The Chosen have gotten too dangerous.”

“I can’t take slaves,” Daisuke said, “The Rings make them too slow. They’ll never manage to keep up.”

“I wasn’t talking about slaves.”

There was a pause, then V-mon shot up from his grip. His smile was huge. “You’re going to fight with us? Like, all the time?”

“That was the idea,” Ken agreed.

V-mon squirmed about, expression gleeful, then tore out of his grip so he could fling himself at Wormmon. “Wormmon, Wormmon, did you hear?”

“We talked about it,” Wormmon agreed, still a little muzzy with his half-sleep, but his voice was warm. He didn’t protest V-mon trying to wrap around him.

Daisuke was very quiet. Ken looked up at him, took in the concerned eyes, the bitten lip. “What?” he asked. 

“I love you fighting with us. You know that,” Daisuke said, voice a little hesitant, “And, I appreciate the last minute rescues. I do. But there are reasons you don’t fight on the front lines anymore.”

“I know that. Daisuke-” Ken paused, held Daisuke’s eyes. “-I know that. But I can’t keep sitting here, watching you get hurt. We’re partners, I’m supposed to have your back. If something happens to you and I’m not there… I can’t go through that again.”

( _The mountain had exploded and he hadn’t been there. He should have been there, not just a voice on the radio, stuck at home too sick to help. He could have helped, could have dragged Ryo-_ )

And Daisuke, who knew him so, so well, who understood exactly why he couldn’t keep staying behind, softened immediately. “Be careful?”

“Of course,” Ken promised.

Daisuke drew him up to kiss him again. Nothing more than a soft press of lips, Daisuke’s rough hands on his face. “Okay,” Daisuke said when they drew apart. His expression wasn’t exactly happy, but he didn’t protest further. 

Ken let out a little breath of relief, once again laying down. This time there were no more thoughts beating at him for immediate attention and he finally, finally drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to Estelle, who is a brilliant, beautiful human being who puts up with my hundred complaints and thousand questions. Thank you so much!
> 
> And here's to hoping Kokuhaku doesn't destroy us all!


	12. As the Clock Ticks Down

Hikari, exhausted physically and emotionally after the battle with Ichijouji, nevertheless didn’t hesitate to rally her team the next day. “We can’t wait. Daisuke-kun won’t fight us until he’s recovered, but once he is, we can’t afford to hurt him. We need to gain as much ground as we can before he comes back.”

The others had agreed, despite their own exhaustion shining through. Hikari throttled down the guilt at asking so much of them after everything they’d just been through. 

Daisuke returned to school four days later. He smiled when he saw them, short and sharp, and walked away with shoulders straight and proud. No sign of the battle anywhere on him. Tension eased from Hikari’s chest at this proof of Daisuke’s wellbeing and the shadow of Ichijouji’s voice in her head ( _his skull was in pieces)_ eased off.

“Well, he’s fine,” Takeru muttered and Hikari winced a little, remembered the still vivid bruises ringed around Yamato’s neck. 

“Good for him. Back to hating each other then,” Miyako said, probably overloud, like it would cover her own relief.

The days dragged on, full of brief glimpses of Daisuke. The image of his wellness vanished slowly; bandages poked out over the top of his shirt collar and the skin around his wrists still looked raw. She thought he moved too slow, his battle trained smoothness now choppy.

At one point, Hikari found Daisuke sitting on the stairs at school. She didn’t even realize he was there until she turned the corner and froze completely. Daisuke sat slumped against the wall, pale and sweating, breathes loud in the stairwell. Daisuke’s face was twisted in pain and that more than anything tugged her forward out of her stillness. “Daisuke-kun?” she asked quietly.

Daisuke’s eyes slid open, found her. It was half between disturbing and fascinating, watching his walls go back up, how everything that was the Knight pieced together behind his eyes; he straightened off the wall, smirk curving out of a grimace and if the skin around his eyes and mouth was still too pale, it was hidden by the surge of his usual arrogance falling into place. “Princess,” he said, voice measured to give nothing away, “So lovely to see you here.”

“You’re hurt,” Hikari said.

“I blew up,” Daisuke said blandly. 

Hikari winced at the reminder. “We didn’t mean-”

Daisuke snorted, rolled his eyes. Hikari watched him lever himself up onto his feet, one hand placed to his chest briefly, the only concession he made to the pain he had to be in. “Welcome to war, princess,” Daisuke said, “Shit happens.”

Hikari didn’t move as Daisuke started down the stairs. “I’m glad you’re not dead,” she said as he came abreast of her.

Daisuke paused, glanced over at her. A bit of warmth entered his face and, for a second, Hikari almost felt like they could be friends again. “Same to you, princess. Ken’s not very forgiving when it comes to me.”

Cold dropped down her spine at the reminder of the face off with Ichijouji; she had to fight not to squirm uncomfortably, to let show the panic and horror that still lingered. “Yeah, we got that.”

That too familiar smirk crossed his face again. Daisuke didn’t say anything else, just clapped her on the shoulder and continued past, an odd, brief showing of camaraderie. She turned to watch him walk away without any sign of busted ribs.

At least, she thought, it would be awhile before he could start fighting again. With his ribs, it would be another few weeks before he could even think of flying with XV-mon. Whatever leeway Hikari could snatch, she was going to run with.

In the Digital World, hours of the day were dedicated to destroying towers; they used the Gate liberally to pop from one corner of the world to the other, refusing the Empire the chance to stage a defense against their next attack or a clear direction to regain ground in. They focused on punching holes, taking out those targets that would be too difficult once XV-mon’s speed could be levied as reinforcement.

There was, in the western forests, a stronghold of slave soldiers Hikari had been eying for awhile. It was the main holdout for Imperial forces in the sector, charged with controlling the whole area. If it fell, the rest of the sector would be vulnerable for her team to just sweep through before the Empire could fortify. 

But Hikari had learned better than to just charge into those strongholds, twisted mazes of cages and slaves that they were; by the time they could reach a part of the stronghold where they could do some damage, the alert would be well out and reinforcements would be pouring in. Doing so might as well be throwing themselves at a wall. Better to take a day carving clean the smaller outposts around it, denying them resources and support. 

They’d already taken out four such outposts today, sped by ever-growing experience, and Hikari was going to call it in. They were exhausted and the Empire was finally reinforcing against their attacks, though it had taken them a bit to realize what was happening.

Hikari scanned the next, last outpost from high in the sky, clocking where all the slaves were before she called the attack. Her team was nowhere as invisible against the sky as XV-mon but it had been so long since the Empire had had to worry about the air that being spotted was rarely a problem. The guards were watching the surroundings closely, spread out so they couldn’t be easily attacked. However, they stood mostly at the perimeter, not at the tower; only one or two stood there.

Hikari looked back at her team and signaled the attack. They followed her dive down, fanning out to protect each other from attacks; they sped right over the guards and headed for the tower. As they got closer, Hikari realized that the black shadow nearest the tower she’d originally thought was another guard was distinctly human-shaped. “Daisuke-kun?”

Couldn’t be. No way was Daisuke better already.

They got closer; Hikari suddenly, really wished she’d been right. Because that was not Daisuke.

Nefertimon reared back as they recognized Ichijouji, wings beating rapidly to negate their forward momentum. Ichijouji looked up at them, Stingmon sitting on the ground next to him. “Hello,” Ichijouji greeted amicably.

Stingmon rose from his position and threw himself skyward without another word. Nefertimon dodged around his charge, Hikari shivering when she got her first clear look at the sharp edges of his spikes. An alarm started to ring throughout the base as the guards realized their presence and turned to back up their master. Her team fell into position around her, guarding each other’s backs, trying to keep their eyes on the approaching slaves and Stingmon at the same time. “What do we do?” Takeru asked, “We weren’t exactly expecting the Kaiser.”

“Pull back. We’ll take this another day,” Hikari ordered. She glanced down at Ichijouji again, who was standing watching them, hands in his pockets. 

Stingmon dove for them again and they scattered out of reflex, the ingrained wish to never stand in XV-mon’s way breaking their ranks. Stingmon spun to match their movement, following Holsmon. Hikari gritted her teeth as Nefertimon flew to back Holsmon up, clenching her hands around the edges of Nefertimon’s chest plate. She could see Stingmon’s head turn briefly to look back at them before he refocused on Holsmon. 

Holsmon, attempting to shake Stingmon, abruptly pulled his wings in and dove. Hikari watched as Stingmon followed after a second, bit her lip in thought; Stingmon could pull sharper turns than XV-mon, definitely, but his reflexes were slower. She wondered when the last time Stingmon had fought without XV-mon or slaves to back him up had been; how many times he’d actually fought total since the war had started. 

The slaves, previously busy attacking Pegasmon and Digmon, redirected some of their attention to attacking Nefertimon at the Kaiser’s direction. The attacks flew through the air in front of them, causing Nefertimon to rear back again. 

Holsmon had pulled out of his dive; Stingmon briefly overshot him but corrected with a sharp turn XV-mon never would have been able to match. Hikari watched as Stingmon kept after Holsmon and, with Holsmon unprepared for and unable to match Stingmon’s quick turns, came alongside him. Stingmon twisted over Holsmon, spikes slashing down across both wings at just the right spot that Holsmon crumbled immediately.

Stingmon pulled back and Pegasmon moved in, swept after the falling Holsmon. Hikari watched as Takeru motioned to Miyako and, with only a second’s pause, Miyako jumped over to Pegasmon. She landed poorly, almost slipped off, but Takeru grabbed at her jacket and pulled her up. Miyako was barely seated before she was turning to look at the still falling Holsmon. She shouted something Hikari couldn’t hear and Holsmon was suddenly engulfed in light.

Digmon, finally breaking away from the slaves, flew around and Iori caught the falling Hawkmon easily. Hikari nudged her knees into Nefertimon’s flank to direct her and Nefertimon began to head for where the others were gathering, navigating around the attacks of the slaves stuck on the ground.

Hikari turned, sought out Stingmon and Ichijouji. Stingmon was back by the tower, coming in for a landing. Ichijouji immediately jumped into his arms, and the two took to the skies. Ichijouji’s attention was elsewhere; Hikari looked and saw more Imperial reinforcements. When she looked back at Ichijouji, he smiled cooly and waved. She glared at him, even as she waved at her teammates. “Up, up, let’s go.”

They rose into the sky and retreated; no one followed.

*****

Daisuke took the news of Ken fighting the Chosen by himself well.

Really.

He returned to the human world with none of his usual grace, tripping out of the Gate with fury pounding through him, so thick he was shaking with it. And just fury, nothing beneath it. At all. Daisuke found his feet quickly, skin crawling for a fight, for any kind of release. Practically snarling, he kicked his computer chair. The action had his head spinning, chest drawing tight with pain, and he had to lean against the desk and breathe long and deep for several seconds. All of it did nothing to sooth him and Daisuke barely restrained himself from punching through the wall.

Chibimon was still on the bed, unmoved from when they’d returned home and Daisuke had thrown himself into the Digital World without him. Chibimon watched him, his long ears pressing flat to his head. “It didn’t go very well, did it?”

Daisuke seethed. “He’s not stopping.”

Because of course he wasn’t. Nevermind that Daisuke had almost had a heart attack when he’d overheard the Chosen talking about the fight. Nevermind that, with Daisuke’s injuries, Ken wouldn’t have backup if something went wrong; that even Daisuke considered not engaging if he thought the base was too far for Ken to back him up. That these kind of fights were different from Ken’s previous vengeful showdown, where he’d decided place and time and the Chosen’s morale, never for a second wasn’t in control.

If Ken took a bad hit, if he fell, if he got sick again, if an innumerable amount of things happened, and Daisuke _wasn’t there_ \- 

Daisuke’s insides went cold, fury briefly overwhelmed by sudden fear. The same fear that had chased him into the base and he’d convinced himself was anger.

Not like it had convinced Ken to stop. No, Ken had balked at the implication he couldn’t handle himself. “ _I’m not a child, Daisuke. And I am certainly not an invalid_.”

There’d been no talking with him after that, the unreasonable, prideful ass. Yelling though. There’d been a lot of yelling.

“Oh,” Chibimon said, deflating a little. He rallied quickly though. “Wormmon will take care of him.”

Daisuke barely restrained a scream of frustration, because Wormmon wasn’t _him_. Because Daisuke hated nothing more than the feeling of utter uselessness that came with the thought of Ken’s mortality. ( _Ken falling, 60, 30, 10 feet to the ground, already unconscious-- body spasming, Daisuke couldn’t hold him-- Ken’s back slashed to ribbons, Daisuke barely keeping the needle still enough for shitty stitches--_ ) They’d both come so close, so many times over the years; Daisuke didn’t really understand how it didn’t haunt Ken, who had patched him up way more times than Daisuke had Ken.

His phone rang, snapping him from his thoughts. He snatched it up, halfway through chucking it at the wall when his brain registered the caller ID. He stopped himself, arms dropping back to his sides, and just focused on breathing deeply while the phone continued to ring.

After a few seconds, he felt in control enough to answer. “Hey Jun.”

“Daisuke? Hey! What’s up?” Jun was as loud as ever, brightly enthusiastic even over the phone. Shaken from the circle of his thoughts, presented with Jun’s unrelenting presence, it was almost easy to let the anger go. 

Daisuke sat down on the bed heavily, trying to focus on the phone call and not his recent argument. Weight fell onto his shoulders, dragging him down into a gloom. He much more preferred the anger, honestly. Chibimon, sensing the change in his temper, moved into his lap. Daisuke scratched at his ears as he said, managing to wangle his tone into one of blankness that could be mistaken for joking, “I hate everything.”

His response was Jun’s boisterous laugh. “Aw, poor teenager. LIfe that rough?”

“So bad. You should see my math scores.” The last of the tension in his chest eased, the cold mix of fear and fury falling away. Jun, so far from the mess of the Digital World, utterly incapable of lying, had that effect. Made him remember what it was like being normal.

“I have. It’s terrible for my self-esteem,” Jun said and Daisuke managed a little huff resembling laughter. The line was quiet for a second before Jun demanded, “Alright, that was not a happy sound. What’s wrong?”

Daisuke didn’t answer immediately; he laid back on the bed, Chibimon moving to sit on his chest. “It’s…” Daisuke paused, scanning the ceiling for a way to explain without saying the truth; how to explain the cold knot in his stomach that never went away. “I’m tired,” he said eventually, no energy for lying. Because now that the anger was gone, the worst of the fear, he just felt drained; emotionally, even physically, his still healing injuries taking their toll.

“Daisuke.”

“Distract me?” He asked.

“Brat,” he heard her mutter, nothing but fond, maybe a little worried. “Did I tell you about Hikku-chan? He got me flowers for our five month anniversary.”

“Five months already?” Daisuke asked.

“Yeah, I know. I didn’t realize at all and he, he planned a whole day. It was a whole thing, it was great.”

Daisuke hummed deep in his chest, listening as Jun gleefully described the trail of presents, sweets, the carefully planned atmosphere of romance. The dinner; a lot about the dinner. The more she talked, the more the memory of his argument with Ken faded; the cold vice around his heart eased and he could breathe again. “Sounds like you don’t deserve him,” he said, but his tone was thick with fondness and gratitude instead of teasing.

“Rude,” Jun accused, sounding deeply amused, “And I don’t care. I’m going to keep this one for a while.”

“Ooooh,” Daisuke said, “Beginning to think I should meet him.”

“Oh no, you terrifying little annoyance. You are staying in Odaiba, you hear?”

Daisuke laughed a little, dug his nails into the skin behind Chibimon’s ears. Chibimon made a vague purring sound, vibration rumbling through them both. “I think I’ll surprise you. Just drop by one day.”

“Ugh.”

Daisuke bit back another laugh at the disgusted sound she made. “Aww, Jun.”

“What about you?” Jun asked, clearly wanting to turn his attention away from meeting her newest boyfriend. “Anyone catching your eye down there?”

“Ah well, you know me,” Daisuke said, low and quiet, the closest he felt ready to get to his usual act of grief. The panic of losing Ken still sat too close, ready to unbury itself from its nest under his ribs. Easier right now just to not contemplate it even in theory. “I’m already ruined for anyone else.”

Silence.

Jun’s sighed echoed down the line. “I’m worried about you,” she admitted after a moment.

“I’m fine,” Daisuke said, “I’m handling everything just fine.”

“Are you?” Jun asked, so quiet Daisuke wondered if she’d actually meant to say it. Daisuke sputtered wordlessly in response. Jun ignored him, continued in a stronger voice, “It’s just, sometimes, I think how much you… fear for him, it’s destroying you.”

Daisuke tried to laugh it off, felt it get strangled somewhere in his throat. “Now, that’s not true,” he managed to say, though it was weak even to his own ears. The cold knot under his ribs was growing again. 

“Daisuke,” Jun’s voice was stern. Daisuke stopped, heard her sigh again. “I’m serious. When was the last time you weren’t scared for him?”

_He’s fine_ , Daisuke reminded himself as that cold grew, settled heavy in his limbs. With the anger gone, drawn out by the constant pressure of Jun’s voice, Daisuke had no defense against it. His heart pounded against his ribs, adrenaline kicking in again. _He’s fine, back at the base, safe._

Ken was safe, and that had never helped the stranglehold of fear Daisuke felt for him.

“It’s like you carry it around all the time,” Jun said and Daisuke bit down on the thought that that’s exactly what it was. “It’s not healthy. I’m worried.”

Daisuke couldn’t find any words.

There was silence for a bit, then Jun called, voice spiking with worry, “Daisuke? No, hey, listen. I’m sorry, I was supposed to be distracting you. Did I tell you about that time Michiko-chan and Kichi-san got drunk together?”

“No,” he managed to choke out, cold all the way through. Jun prattled on, voice too forcibly cheerful, and he tried to lose himself in it. That cold lump didn’t leave again though; there were days Daisuke thought it never did.

He let Jun talk, mostly nonsense now; let her voice wash over him and tried to reclaim some of his previous calm. It kept escaping him, caught away by the deep need to check on Ken; he needed to know Ken was still alright, unharmed, still breathing. But Ken was probably still angry with him; Daisuke thought he himself was still a little angry with Ken, counterpoint to and amplified by his fear.

Jun ramped to a close eventually. “I have classwork to do,” she said apologetic, “I’ve burned too much time as it is.”

Daisuke clucked his tongue at her. “Using me to avoid your work. Shame.”

“Watch it.”

“Want help?”

“Oh, fuck you,” Jun said, words broken by laughter.

“I’ll talk to you later,” Daisuke said.

“Take care of yourself,” Jun ordered imperiously, “I’ll call again soon.”

Daisuke hung up, let the phone drop onto the bed next to him. Sighed heavily. Chibimon looked up at him, red eyes huge, and wormed his way up until he could press against Daisuke’s collarbone. “Okay?” Chibimon asked.

“Getting there,” he assured, “Bad day.”

“Let’s sleep,” Chibimon suggested, all childish innocence, “Then the day will be over.”

Daisuke laughed a little at the ‘mon’s simplicity, rolled onto his side with Chibimon held tight to his chest. “Alright, then,” he agreed, despite the chills, nerves buzzing under his skin, begging him to move. “Let’s sleep.”

Chibimon made a happy sound, burying deeper into his arms.

Daisuke listened to his partner breathe, let the simple sound soothe him into a slight daze. He couldn’t fall completely asleep, never for a second thought he could; instead he rested on the edge of it, attention turned inward. Focused on the steady beat of his heart, the double-beat it picked up if he focused and searched for it. The familiar, distant echo that was Ken.

His phone rang again.

Daisuke sighed, long and heavy, and pulled himself from his slight daze. Grabbed his phone and tilted it so he could see the screen. 

Ken.

Daisuke let the phone ring.

Eventually, the ringing stopped. Daisuke watched the phone, silence consuming. After a few heartbeats, the phone began to ring again. Daisuke listened to the first few rings, imagining Ken in the base, waiting for him to pick up. Finally, Daisuke answered. “Ken?”

“Can we, talk about this calmly?” Ken asked, voice hesitant, uncertain, “I don’t like it when you’re angry with me.”

“Me either,” Daisuke said quietly.

“I’m sorry,” Ken said, “I should have told you beforehand and I shouldn’t have reacted like I did.”

“Will you stop? Wait for me?”

Silence answered him. Daisuke waited, heart sinking the longer Ken went without saying something. Finally, Ken sighed and answered, “I can’t just let them destroy whatever they want, Daisuke.”

“You did before,” Daisuke protested, almost whining, trying not to let his recent scare show in his voice.

“Well, I’m not feeling that generous anymore,” Ken said, voice going sharp. Despite that, Daisuke warmed at the note of fierce protection in his voice.

Daisuke smiled a little to himself, unable to help it, even with everything else pounding through him. After a second of basking in that feeling, Ken’s own vicious protectiveness, he set it aside so he could focus on their conversation. “I can’t be happy about this,” he said slowly. 

Ken made a quiet sound, barely picked up by the phone. Daisuke closed his eyes against it, briefly wished they were face-to-face, that he could hold Ken.

“I’m sorry. But I can’t- The thought of you out there alone, I hate it,” Daisuke said. 

“... I understand,” Ken said, voice terribly soft.

“But you’re still not stopping.”

“No, sorry.”

Daisuke sighed. “I understand that, I guess. But I’m still not going to like it.”

Silence answered him. Daisuke waited, twitching with the need to comfort.

Finally, Ken breathed out, low and shuddery, and asked, “When you’re better, and you can join me again, can we put this behind us?”

“Yes, of course,” Daisuke said immediately. Couldn’t imagine staying angry with Ken for long. “As long as you don’t go getting yourself killed.”

Ken laughed a little, the sound mostly relief. “So, we have an understanding?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m glad. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Daisuke said softly, “Take care of yourself. Please.”

“Of course. I’ll see you later.”

“Bye,” Daisuke waited until Ken echoed him, his voice soft and hesitant, like he didn’t want to end the call. Daisuke smiled a little at the thought as the call ended and let the phone drop onto the bed. He went back to scratching Chibimon, who remained sound asleep, a bit of the tension in his chest eased away by the phone call.

*****

The worst part about fighting the Kaiser, Hikari thought, was realizing how used to fighting Daisuke they’d become. How Daisuke, attacked, defended, positioned himself. The Chosen knew how to fight Daisuke specifically, the best ways to keep themselves safe. Ichijouji fought differently, thought differently.

He was attentive to detail, practically meticulous; had none of Daisuke’s brashness, his occasional recklessness. It was true that Ichijouji and Stingmon weren’t quite at Daisuke’s level, were slow in a way that screamed of degraded reflexes; it was also true that Ichijouji was viciously brilliant, never entered a fight he couldn’t win, was always conscious of where and how far away his backup was, how long it would take to arrive, for himself to get away. He took no risks.

Yet, despite that, or perhaps because of his certainty in winning, Ichijouji seemed to concern himself more with hurting the Chosen- hurt, in a specific, precise way that mirrored the minor injuries Daisuke had accumulated from them- than on holding ground. He seemed content to leave the defense of his territory to his slaves, to focus on sending the Chosen home injured. Her team came home with more bruises, sprains, and and pulled muscles than they ever had against Daisuke.

For once, Hikari couldn’t wait to see Daisuke across the battlefield if it meant getting away from Ichijouji’s pointed viciousness.

Despite the Kaiser’s sudden, unexpected presence on the battlefield, her team maintained their routine in the Digital World. Get in, take down their targets for the day- typically 3 or 4, unless they went after something big- then get out. On good days, they didn’t even see Ichijouji.

The older Chosen picked themselves up more slowly and Hikari tried not to feel envious that they had that luxury. Their partners returned to the Digital World one by one as they healed until only Mochimon was left; Agumon was one of the last to go and there were a few seconds where Hikari wasn’t sure Taichi was going to let him. Taichi did eventually, but he spent the week clutching his digivice, constantly on edge. It was only as the days wore on and the Kaiser proved to have little interest in pursuing Agumon again that Taichi relaxed and some of the terrible shadows left his face. Nobody pretended they didn’t notice the improvement or that they weren’t relieved.

Mochimon, for his part, clung close to Koushiro’s side, helping with this work. He was recovering slowly, but even Hikari could tell he was eager to return to work. Koushiro was, perhaps, not quite as eager; he fell into the work readily enough, but with none of his usual enthusiasm and she doubted he’d be willing to go to the Digital World any time soon. Still, he continued to keep track of the information pouring in, directing them to important targets.

When Hikari arrived at the usual meeting between her team and Koushiro, he had laid out a tablet instead of the usual map they’d been using. On the screen was a new map, swept clean of all their tower and territory markers. Instead, there were black and red markers scattered everywhere in places and patterns she didn’t recognize. “What’s this?”

Koushiro looked up at her, still half bent over his own laptop. “Something that we need to look into. ...Or possibly me overthinking things.”

Miyako brightened when she saw the map. “Oh, I know this,” she exclaimed, eyes shining.

“Yes,” Koushiro agreed. He motioned them to sit down as he explained, “I’ve been tracking Motomiya’s movements for a while, since Taichi originally asked me to track him down. I noticed these weird patterns. There are two separate ones, I’ve marked them on the map.

“Each marker is a place Motomiya has been seen acting outside the Empire’s territory, or at least, what was outside the territory at the time. Now, those times his presence was followed by an increase in Empire activity in the area is marked in black. I believe those were the times Motomiya was acting as a scout.”

“And these red ones?” Takeru asked, pressing a finger to one of the red markers.. They were scattered across the map at random points, with no clear pattern she could see.

Koushiro sighed, brushing Takeru’s hand away. “Those are the outliers. There’s no Imperial movement tied to his presence there. Some of them are too far past the territory line to ever possibly be scouting. There’s a margin of error between the two groups, but still, the second pattern is distinctive enough to bare attention.” Koushiro shrugged, spread his arms.

“You told me about this,” Hikari said, looking over at Miyako.

Miyako nodded. “Back when we first started looking into it. It was while ago.”

“We haven’t really discovered much since then,” Koushiro said, sounding apologetic. “We’ve had other priorities.”

“That’s fine. I understand,” Hikari assured. She tapped her fingers next to one of the red markers. “What do you think these are?”

“I think, from the movement patterns, he’s looking for something,” Koushiro said.

“Looking for something?” Iori echoed, “Looking for what?”

Koushiro shrugged. “That I can’t say. There’s simply not enough information to even speculate.”

“You want us to look into it,” Hikari guessed.

Koushiro grinned a little sheepishly. “Yes. If you could investigate some of the areas he’s visited, see what’s there? It might give us a better idea of what he’s looking for, what his plans might be.”

“It’s no problem,” Hikari assured, “If Daisuke-kun’s looking for something, I want to know what it is. I want to find it first.”

Mochimon spoke up, “Once I go back, I can help look as well.”

Hikari saw Koushiro twitch, turn ashen; she smiled down at Mochimon. “That’s great. But get well first, okay?”

Mochimon nodded eagerly, while Koushiro turned enough to give her a thankful look. Hikari nodded back at him wordlessly.

“There’s a lot of them,” Miyako said, looking over the map.

Hikari made a sound of agreement. “Some of these are still pretty far outside Empire territory,” she observed, “If we start with the ones farther out, we should be safe enough to separate, cover more ground.”

“You sure?” Takeru asked.

“Yeah. We don’t know how close he is to finding what he wants. I don’t want to waste any time we might not have.”

“Alright then,” Takeru agreed, shrugging.

Miyako grinned, looking over all the little markers. “Let’s do this. I want the snowy ones. We never go anywhere snowy.”

“There’s no Empire territory in the snow,” Hikari said off-hand, more focused on the map.

“I don’t need anything extravagant,” Koushiro told them, “Not yet anyways. Just see if they have any major themes, what they might have in common. Maybe take a few pictures of anything interesting.”

“Got it,” Hikari said, smiling at him briefly. Then she looked back at her team. “So, asides from Miyako-chan, who wants to go where?”

*****

Daisuke’s recovery continued slowly. Not being able to fight, to help out, left Daisuke feeling a little restless. Usually when he was too hurt to keep fighting, he helped out at the base; Ken never really needed the help but he also had no problem finding things for Daisuke to do. But Daisuke hadn’t been spending as much time at the base as he usually did; he couldn’t watch Ken fly off to fight the Chosen while he stayed behind.

So, school was the only thing occupying him and he was going to come out of his skin.

Daisuke stared up at his ceiling, laying in bed with Chibimon curled against his side. Chibimon was already asleep, snoozing away unaware of his partner’s issues attempting the same. Daisuke’s body buzzed with the need to move, though he really just wanted to sleep; it escaped him every time he tried to close his eyes and Daisuke had lost track of the hours gone by while he laid there.

It was infuriating and Daisuke had no idea how Ken handled his own frequent insomnia.

Daisuke sighed, all frustration, and sat up for the hundredth time. Chibimon barely reacted and certainly didn’t wake. Daisuke shook his head but rubbed at Chibimon’s ears, fond beneath his aimless irritation.

He wondered is Ken was still awake. It was 50-50, really, with Ken’s sleeping habits. He could imagine it easily; Ken in his study, bent over his work, Wormmon loyally at his side.

Of course, Ken could just as easily be asleep.

Daisuke’s chest yawned open with want as he pictured Ken asleep in their bed. Ken was different sleepy, soft and warm, eagerly affectionate. He missed Ken, not suddenly but fiercely, hugely, thick enough he could choke on it.

The decision to go was made before he registered it was there. Daisuke threw his legs over the side of the bed, stood with a groan as his muscles stretched. His chest had stopped hurting finally, and he no longer got dizzy if he moved too fast; another week or two and he’d finally be able to rejoin the fight, finally be able to back Ken up.

He didn’t bother with finding a shirt or shoes as he opened up the Gate program; he was only going to the base. He grabbed Chibimon, who didn’t react at all, and stepped through the Gate.

The trip, and resulting digivolution to Child, didn’t bother V-mon in the slightest, though Daisuke hadn’t thought it would. He changed his hold to better accommodate V-mon’s increased size and started walking for the living area. The base was dark, inactive now that it was night. Guards still stood at strategic positions, but much fewer in number; they squinted at him suspiciously before they recognized him, unused to him so dressed down. He ignored them, shivering from the cold floor against his bare feet, and continued to the living area. 

It was even darker, only the small run lights along the floor providing any illumination. Daisuke paused briefly, squinting as he tried to adjust to the dim. Once he was able to better make out the shape of things, he hurried to the bedroom, almost eager in his rush.

Ken _was_ sleeping.

Daisuke paused in the doorway, chest filling to breaking with affection, as he looked over Ken. The room was only a step up from pitch black, and the run lights from the hall only cast the slightest orange glow into the first few feet of the room; enough for Daisuke to make out Ken curled ball-like in the bed; the tangled fan of his hair; the odd lump under the covers that was probably Wormmon, swallowed in the curve of Ken’s body. A quiet sound escaped Daisuke, all love, and he moved towards the bed, closing the door behind him. 

Without the hallway lights, it was much harder to see, but he managed to lay V-mon down near Wormmon’s covered lump, then climb in behind Ken. He slipped an arm around Ken’s chest and pressed a soft, quick kiss to his temple before he laid down.

He had no intentions of falling asleep, doubted even the contented quietness of the room would help. But at least like this, the wait for the sun wouldn’t be marked with his own frustration. Just Ken’s quiet breathing, the warmth of him against Daisuke’s side.

Ken stirred, never one to sleep very heavily, no doubt disturbed by the sudden weight in the bed next to him. Daisuke turned a little to watch him grumble himself awake. One of Ken’s hands patted the bed in front of him blindly, coming to rest on V-mon’s head. “Vee?” Ken asked, all sleepy confusion. Then, a little louder, “Daisuke?” 

Daisuke made a sound of acknowledgement, pressed closer against Ken’s back. Ken’s right sleeve had slipped off his shoulder and Daisuke couldn’t help pressing another kiss to the bare skin His lips found the scar tissue that raked over Ken’s shoulder and down his back, still raised and rough after two years; he couldn’t see it, but he knew the shape of it easily, with the same intimacy Ken knew all of his scars. “I’m here,” he whispered softly.

“Daisuke?” Ken repeated, still half confusion but with growing warmth. He slurred the syllables together, proof of how close to sleep he still was, “Why?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” he admitted, “Missed you.”

Ken hummed, all pleasure. He rolled over in Daisuke’s arms until he was on his back; Daisuke could make out his eyes, half-lidded with sleep, the tilt of his chin a lazy command. He huffed a laugh, leaned up until he could kiss Ken properly. Ken gave another pleased little hum into the kiss; his mouth was slack against Daisuke’s but warm. Daisuke laughed a little, settled more into the kiss, hands falling to Ken’s hips.

Ken lazily slung an arm over his shoulders, fingers playing with the short hairs at his nape. Daisuke pulled away a little though he kept breathing in Ken’s air, shivers of warmth skating from the light touch. He caught a glimpse of the teasing grin stretching Ken’s lips, felt the happy little sigh he made, before Daisuke ducked down for another kiss.

It had been so long since he’d had the time or energy to really indulge in kissing Ken. They’d been too busy dealing with the Chosen to do more than steal quick kisses.

The blankets shifting next to them had Ken pulling away to look down. “Ah, Wormmon, look,” he said, words still a little slurred but so very bright. “Daisuke’s here.”

Daisuke propped himself up a little more, looking over to watch Wormmon crawl out from under the blankets. Not surprising; Wormmon was the lightest sleeper of them all. “Ah, Daisuke-kun,” Wormmon greeted. His face scrunched up a little as he looked over them, Daisuke’s place hovering over Ken. “You’re doing that weird thing with your mouths again, aren’t you?”

Ken burst into laughter, whole body shaking with it; Daisuke grinned widely at the look on the little ‘mon’s face. He leaned down, pressed an open-mouthed kiss to Ken’s collarbone, unable to help himself.

Ken’s laughter choked off into a startled, pleased sound that had Daisuke chuckling. “It’s good to see you, Wormmon,” he said, watching Wormmon finish wriggling out from beneath the blankets so he could investigate where V-mon was still snoring away.

Ken’s hand buried itself in his hair, tugging to draw back his attention. “I thought you were angry with me,” Ken mumbled. His grip softened, turned into a long, lazy pet that had Daisuke arching into it unashamedly.

“I’m not right now,” he said, anger furthest thing from his mind.

Ken’s answering sigh was the picture of bliss. “You never do stay angry for long,” Ken said quietly, “It’s not in your nature.”

“Not with you,” Daisuke agreed, pressing another kiss to Ken’s collar, this time the other side. Ken jolted away from the touch with a choked off sound; Daisuke paused, frowned, because that wasn’t one of the spots Ken was ticklish in. He sat up more despite the displeased sound Ken made, squinting until he could see clearly in the dark. Half of Ken’s neck, his collar, the edge of his jaw, they were all raw red, the discoloration faint but noticeable once he was looking. 

Daisuke couldn’t contain a worried sound, just touching the discoloration with his fingertips. “Is this from fighting?” he asked, warmth splintering in his chest.

Ken stared up at him blankly for a long second, long enough Daisuke felt relief uncoil in his chest; if Ken had forgotten already, it was nothing major. Finally, Ken blinked and recognition sparked in his eyes. “Oh, no, there was a lab accident,” Ken said. He sighed, looking a little embarrassed as he admitted, “I got up too fast and got dizzy. Knocked some things over. Chemical reaction caused a small explosion.”

“An explosion?” Daisuke echoed worriedly.

Ken hummed agreement, rolling so he was on his side facing Daisuke. When Ken tugged, Daisuke allowed himself to be maneuvered down for Ken to curl against. Ken’s head rested on his chest, his favorite place, right over Daisuke’s heart. “It’s nothing major, I washed off quick. It’s just skin irritation. It should be gone by tomorrow.” Ken yawned, shoulders rolling as he got comfortable again and eyes falling shut. “Must have forgotten to eat lunch again. The dizziness, I mean,” he said, words slurring slightly again.

Daisuke hesitated, glanced over at Wormmon. Wormmon met his gaze; there was a moment’s pause, the little ‘mon looking hesitant. Then Wormmon, who tasked himself with keeping track of Ken’s health all the time, who would know when Ken had or hadn’t eaten, shook his head in silent contradiction to Ken’s words. Daisuke’s stomach disappeared, last of his contented warmth fleeing.

“Daisuke?” Ken asked.

Daisuke looked down, found Ken watching him through half-lidded eyes. 

“Going back to sleep?” He asked, trying to keep his voice normal.

Ken nodded, hair falling into his face with the movement. Daisuke smiled a little helplessly, reached forward to brush it back, tuck it behind his ear. His hand fell to the back of Ken’s neck and he rubbed gently at the always fever-hot skin there, the by now barely noticeable scar tissue. Ken made another pleased sound, eyes falling shut.

Daisuke didn’t move for a long time, listening to Ken’s breathing settle into a sleeping pattern. He stared up at the ceiling, cold to the bone even as he kept up rubbing at Ken’s neck. His throat felt tight.

7 months to a year. One month already gone by and by the time he finished healing it would be two. Two months wasted, fucking around with the Chosen, chasing after them like he wasn’t hanging on the precipice of losing the only thing that mattered.

_Idiot._

The picture of gentle, Daisuke carefully eased Ken off his chest, moved them both around until Ken was resting against the pillows again. Ken made a displeased sound when Daisuke left the bed, stretching, searching for him. Daisuke leaned down, smoothed back Ken’s hair, and pressed another kiss to his temple. Ken stilled, settled at his returned nearness; Daisuke leaned over and scooped Wormmon up, laid him down again right next to Ken’s chest. Wormmon made a sharp, surprised sound, eyes shooting open to look up at him. Ken merely curved full-bodied around Wormmon, arms tucking his partner in close.

“Daisuke-kun?” Wormmon asked, quiet in respect to Ken still sleeping. “Where are you going?”

“Study,” he said. He tried to smile, though it came out flat, and rubbed at Wormmon’s forehead. “Can’t sleep, and there’s work to do.”

Wormmon’s eyes were sad and knowing. “He’s going to be upset if you’re not here when he wakes up.”

“Well then, I’ll be back by then,” he promised.

He stood and walked over to the closet, dug out one of the shirts he’d left there, and walked out. The study flooded with light when he entered and Daisuke had to pause, blink out spots; after a second, he finished tugging his shirt on and walked over, past Ken’s desk of computer screens and too many papers, to his own little section. Another desk, smaller, with just the one screen. A map of the Digital World popped up when he turned the computer on; he stared at it, all his little marks and notes, the too many places he’d completely crossed out in black as unhelpful. Way more in blue, as needed revisiting. So little of the world left unturned after three years of this.

5 to 10 months left. And he hadn’t found anything after 3 years of searching.

Daisuke closed his eyes, pressed his fingers tight against them until he saw stars. Frustration and fear, mostly fear, bubbled out of his chest and into his throat, foamed thick and acidic on the back of his tongue. Daisuke leaned back and tried not to cry. “What do you want of me?” he asked, of the room, the world at large.

*****

With Iori taking the forests and grasslands, and Takeru taking the mountains, that left Hikari with the deserts. She didn’t mind; after all the time she’d already spent in the desert, she had grown to kind of like it. She scoured those desert locations Koushiro asked for, noted down anything she felt was important; hoped Koushiro found something in it worth while, because all Hikari found was sand.

The others were the same. Her team pretty much agreed they were finding nothing of interest. Their hope was merely that, when their reports were put together, something would emerge.

Still, Hikari wasn’t sure how much more time she was willing to devote to this without results. As much as she wanted to stop Daisuke’s plans, she hated taking time away from destroying towers, especially since they weren’t finding anything.

Hikari sighed as Nefertimon set down at another location. At least, she was was seeing some really cool locations in the Digital World she didn’t normally have time for. Her landing was on the top of a cliff, red dirt stirring about her feet. The ground stretched empty on one side, the other dropped off the cliff edge. Hikari leaned over the edge, looked down. There were buildings carved into the side, long abandoned but still majestic.

“There’s a path here,” Nefertimon called. Hikari walked over, eyed the narrow, steep path cut into the side, winding down to the buildings.

“No,” Hikari decided immediately, “We’ll fly in. I’m not walking on that.”

Nefertimon made a sound of agreement, turning so Hikari could climb onto her back again. Once Hikari was settled, Nefertimon took off; she flew close to the cliff, allowing Hikari to view the buildings up close. They were mostly empty, the floors covered in thick layers of sand, any remaining doors rotted. “I’m not seeing anything,” she told Nefertimon. She looked around, squinting when she noticed a much larger building than the others, set deep in the cliff so it even had something she would call a courtyard. “Can you bring me to that?”

Nefertimon flew over at her direction. The building was huge, forcing her to crane her neck back uncomfortably; it was ornate, with pillars and steep stairs and wide, inviting archways, all carved from the same rock as the cliff and polished to smooth. There were no breaks in any of it, like someone had simply started carving holes in the rock with the kind of craftmanship one only found in the Digital World. Hikari had Nefertimon set her down and walked into the deep, cool shadows of the building’s courtyard.

As she walked through into the building, she noticed marking on the walls. A closer examination proved to be the Digital language, etched into the walls in neat, orderly rows. “Well, that’s interesting,” she said, drawing out her phone to take pictures. The bright flash lit up the area.

After a few pictures, Nefertimon perked up, suddenly on edge. “Wait,” she said, voice quiet but firm.

Hikari froze.

“I heard something,” Nefertimon explained, eying the shadows deeper in the building. She turned suddenly, nudged at Hikari with her nose until Hikari was hidden in an alcove, buried in shadow.

Hikari didn’t move, breathing shallowly as she listened. It took a second, then she managed to make out the steady scruff of shoes on the rock. She waited, unwilling to move, and after a few seconds, Daisuke walked into view; her breathe caught, half-shock, half-fear, until Daisuke walked past without noticing her.

She breathed out slowly, thoughts spinning. What was he doing here? Sharing a look with Nefertimon, she peered cautiously out of her hiding place. Daisuke stood motionless near the cliff edge, staring blankly out at the stretching desert; V-mon stood a step behind him, watching his partner, and Hikari thought the ‘mon looked worried.

“We should go back to base, yeah?” V-mon asked.

Daisuke didn’t say anything, just kicked roughly at the ground. A rock skittered noisily over the edge.

“There’s nothing here,” V-mon said, and something twisted in Hikari’s chest at the gentleness V-mon spoke with; like Daisuke was something fragile. “We double checked and there’s nothing. Let’s head home.”

Silence.

Daisuke breathed out, long and deep, and, watching the fall of his shoulders, Hikari realized how tightly he was holding himself. A coiled spring. “Damn it,” he hissed, so quiet she took a second to register it. She watched the repeated clenching of his hands, something deep in her chest waiting, shaking.

“We’ve got plenty of time,” V-mon added.

Daisuke snapped. He spun abruptly, fist slamming against a nearby pillar without warning. Hikari jumped, her choked gasp hidden by V-mon’s shout of “Daisuke!”

“This is why you chose me, isn’t it?” Daisuke shouted, voice cracking, aimed for the sky and the shadows and anyone listening. “So, just, _fucking_ , tell me what to _do_!” 

He swung again, his other fist this time, and then didn’t stop. Kept punching at the rock with both hands. V-mon tugged at his leg almost violently, but it didn’t accomplish anything. Hikari flinched with every punch, the ugly noise of fist meeting rock, and wasn’t surprised at the sound of breaking bone. She watched Daisuke stop eventually, breathing deeply, head bowed; he turned and sank to the ground, leaning back against the pillar.

All Hikari could feel was a distant, hazy sort of horror.

“Damn it,” Daisuke cursed again, voice weak, wet. He pressed his hands to his face, fingers curled awkwardly, knuckles shredded. The pillar above him was smeared with blood, though Daisuke didn’t seem to feel the pain. V-mon was making strange, worried chirping noises, trying to bury himself under Daisuke’s hands.

Hikari watched, still with that numb horror, as Daisuke dropped his hands to hug V-mon tight against his chest. His eyes were wet, though he wasn’t crying, cheeks splotchy red, shoulders shaking minutely.

Hikari gripped the edge of Nefertimon’s armor and tugged them both away. With Daisuke and V-mon absorbed near the edge, she could press close to the cliff face and slip away. Once they were far enough she felt safe, Hikari climbed onto Nefertimon’s back. “Let’s go home.”

Her chest still felt tight.

Nefertimon didn’t say anything as she began a steep climb parallel to the cliff face, then banked over and headed for the Gate. It wasn’t until they were almost there that she asked, “What do you think that was?”

“I don’t know,” Hikari answered. She worried at her lip, thinking it over. She had no idea what could possibly push Daisuke to such a point. Worse, when she considered how V-mon had acted, she thought he’d perhaps expected it. Perhaps not quite so violently, but he’d expected it.

_What are you looking for_? She thought, less fire now, more desperation. Desperation born out of empathy, some lingering affection for Daisuke, the wish to comfort him.

On the other side of the Gate, Koushiro and Takeru, already returned form his own search, were waiting. “Hey,” Takeru called, cheeks still raw red from the mountain wind. “How’d it go?”

“Daisuke-kun was there,” she said, heard the words echo back to her as if from far away.

“What? Are you okay?” Takeru asked worriedly.

She nodded. “He didn’t see me.”

“What was he doing there?” Koushiro asked. 

She managed a shrug. “Taking another look, I think. He didn’t find anything.”

“You sure?” Koushiro asked.

“Yeah. He was… upset about it.” Her mouth felt numb as she said the words.

“Upset?” Takeru asked, “What do you mean?”

“He… punched a pillar. I don’t think he’s having any more luck than we are.” It was out of her mouth before she’d thought about it. However, she couldn’t bring herself to describe how Daisuke had snapped, had neared a full breakdown in what he’d thought was a private moment. Something strangled her when she tried, something that remembered the comfort of his words, the warmth of his smile, the blush he’d get back when he had a crush on her. 

_Stupid_ , she thought harshly. Something bubbled thick in her chest, ugly and poisonous, until her eyes stung. She wasn’t sure if it was frustration with herself or some grief for, about, Daisuke. She’d thought she’d gotten past this, but it kept slipping back at odd moments; mostly late at night, when she had too much time to think, and she’d suddenly realize how much she missed him. _Why are you protecting him_? 

Her continued silence caused Plotmon to turn and look at her, eyebrow rising. Hikari looked away. She dug out her phone, handed it to Koushiro. “Pictures,” she said, like she couldn’t hear Plotmon sighing behind her; couldn’t see the suspicious look Takeru shot her.

“Thank you,” Koushiro said, taking the phone to copy the pictures.

“I’m calling the search off,” Hikari said, “If Daisuke-kun is well enough to be flying around, I don’t want anyone out there alone, even if it's outside of Empire territory. And if Daisuke-kun’s not having any luck in his search, I want to refocus on the towers before they can regain any momentum.”

“I understand,” Koushiro agreed, “I have plenty of information now anyway. I’ll see if I can’t find anything with what you’ve already brought me.”

“Thank you, Koushiro-san,” Hikari said, bowing slightly. 

“It’s no problem.”

Takeru approached, still eying her. “Nothing happened?”

She shook her head. “No, nothing.”

Takeru stared, lips pressed thin, not fully believing. Still he didn’t push, and Hikari was left alone with her own frustrated guilt and Plotmon’s searching stare.

The days bled into two weeks with no sign of Daisuke on the battlefield. She considered the damage to his hands and wasn’t surprised; Daisuke moved through school with both hands wrapped tight and shoulders straight. All pride, no hint of the despair she’d seen.

She almost wanted to ask, to talk to him about what she’d seen, maybe even help. But he seemed even sharper in the wake of his collapse; Hikari knew attempting such, admitting what she’d seen, would end badly.

In the Digital World, things continued as normal now that they were again moving as a group against the towers. Hikari was no longer surprised to find Ichijouji waiting for them instead of Daisuke. No longer surprised by how he and Stingmon seemed to melt out of the shadows around the tower, without even the slight warning that she’d gotten used to from XV-mon.

Ichijouji met them all with his customary smile, as put together as anything. “Hello,” he said, voice cold.

Hikari shivered, because wait, no, that wasn’t Ichijouji’s usual smile. There was too much warmth, actual genuine excitement. She’d only ever seen him smile like that with Daisuke.

There was then, from behind, the familiar distinctive flap of wings. Hikari went cold. _Oh no_ , she thought, and turned to look.

Daisuke’s smirk was smug. “Yo, princess,” he called, relaxed in his arrogance, confident in his safety with Ichijouji nearby. “Miss me?”

XV-mon charged forward before anyone could reply, intent on scattering their line; Nefertimon dodged, only to back straight into Stingmon. It was only the flash of green in the corner of her eye that alerted Hikari; only Hikari’s startled shout that alerted Nefertimon; only that which saved them from losing a wing.

Nefertimon managed to twist under Stingmon’s forward lunge, but not the kick Stingmon snapped into her side. Hikari clung to Nefertimon as she recovered, trying to keep both XV-mon and Stingmon in her sight.

Ichijouji usually only came out when Daisuke was in trouble; was it wrong to have thought he’d retreat after Daisuke returned, as he had last time? Had her team really become that much of a threat?

Daisuke and Ichijouji shared a look, Daisuke’s grin a fierce, cutting thing. XV-mon flew forward again and Stingmon vanished in his wake. Nefertimon dropped to avoid XV-mon, wings curling in close. Stingmon swung in, right into their path, and his spikes pierced through the sky where they’d been, missing Nefertimon’s wings by centimeters.

“ _Gold Rush!”_

XV-mon ducked beneath the attack, found himself falling right into Holsmon’s talons. He twisted away, just missing the attack. Daisuke pressed close against XV-mon’s back; the talons scraped across the back of his armor.

Hikari winced, both at the sound and the way Ichijouji focused wholly on Holsmon. _Careful_ , she thought, a little panicked. The last thing they needed was Ichijouji out for blood again.

XV-mon flipped over, abruptly changing course; he swung back for Holsmon, who was still mid-turn and unprepared. Also unprepared was Pegasmon; he had been in front of XV-mon, had anticipated and braced for a charge. When XV-mon changed course, Stingmon filled the space where he’d been, spikes at the ready. Takeru cried out as a spike slashed across the bone of one of Pegasmon’s wings; Pegasmon gave a pained whine and began to fall.

Nefertimon flew to help. Pegasmon’s good wing was flapping wildly as he fell, managing to hold himself to a somewhat controlled drop. Nefertimon pressed against Pegasmon’s bad side, providing him leverage as they coasted to the ground. Pegasmon landed almost gracefully, only to immediately collapse to his stomach, wings drawing close protectively. Takeru jumped off to kneel next to him, expression a mix of panic and fear. “I’ve got him,” he said, “You get back in there.”

Hikari nodded and Nefertimon rose back to where Holsmon and Digmon were struggling with the fight.

Fighting both XV-mon and Stingmon was still the same special hell she remembered. They worked together seamlessly, didn’t require even the hand signals Hikari used. Hikari dodged XV-mon and Stingmon was waiting for her; only reckless twisting that nearly unseated her kept Nefertimon out of reach of Stingmon’s spikes.

XV-mon dodged under Nefertimon’s attack, then soared to where Holsmon and Digmon were flying in formation. 

“ _Tempest Wing!_ ”

XV-mon shot out of the way of Holsmon’s attack. He angled for Digmon instead, shoulders tucking in a brace. Daisuke did nothing of the sort; he drew himself up on XV-mon’s back and jumped. He did so at an angle, aimed for Holsmon. He cleared Holsmon’s wing, soared clear over him. As he did so, he snagged Miyako’s collar and dragged the stunned girl with him. Miyako fell from Holsmon’s back with a scream.

Nefertimon tucked into a dive; out of the corner of her eye, Hikari saw Digmon break off from XV-mon and shoot after Miyako. XV-mon didn’t follow after his partner.

Digmon was closer to Miyako so, despite Nefertimon continuing her dive, Hikari kept an eye on Daisuke. She watched him fall and fall and be swept up by Stingmon.

She looked back at Miyako; Iori caught her, yanking her to an abrupt stop and pulling her up behind him. Miyako settled awkwardly, shaking a little; Iori’s arm curled against his chest, his expression tight with pain.

XV-mon flew over to Stingmon’s side. Stingmon held out the arm DAisuke was currently sitting on and, without hesitation, Daisuke jumped across to XV-mon. He landed and resettled on XV-mon’s back with experienced ease, not a hint of awkwardness.

Hikari looked around. Iori’s look of pain hadn’t eased. Miyako still looked shaken. Takeru was on the ground, trying to make himself as small and ignorable as possible, body curled around Patamon. She gritted her teeth, glaring across at Daisuke and Ichijouji, and gave the retreat order. As Holsmon and Digmon swung away, Nefertimon sped down to pick up Takeru. Ichijouji and Daisuke made no move to interfere and her team flew away unhindered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for how long this took.


	13. Partners

The Chosen didn’t return to the human world without injury. Rather it was pulled muscles or bruises down to the bone, they went home with remainders of the corner they’d been forced into. Ken made sure of it.

He’d never claimed to be a nice person.

He didn’t bother with holding back all that much, his patience for the Chosen worn thin. That the Chosen didn’t leave with worse, with broken bones instead of bruises, was testament to their skill, loathe though Ken was to admit it. The simple truth was, the Chosen had grown quite strong when he wasn’t paying attention. They’d found the beat of a good battle. More importantly, they’d figured out how to work with each other; they moved together now, rather than stumbling around each other. 

They were almost a threat, would be, if Ken didn’t have an army at his beck and call. He had more resources than they did; he had control and the Chosen weren’t in any position to wrest it away.

And, of course, there was Ken himself, the constant shadow of threat should anything happen to Daisuke. It was a good feeling; after some much time away from the front lines, watching Daisuke fight every battle, he’d kind of forgotten the effect his presence could have.

The Chosen could no longer risk a full-out fight with Daisuke, certainly not now that Ken was with him. The quick, violent scuffles they engaged in were nothing more than fighting retreats for the Chosen. They could do nothing but hope they took down the tower before Daisuke and he arrived.

It was an encouraging thought in regards to the direction of the war. His patience was gone and he was rapidly losing the last of his good-will. He was more than ready for the Chosen to lose steam and leave things well enough alone.

Despite it all, despite the Chosen, the constant threat of this war going very wrong, he was enjoying fighting again.

Ken had forgotten how much he missed it. Not the fighting necessarily; the adrenaline made his hands shake for ages afterwards. Impossible to do any delicate work with. But the other things- the thrill, the closeness with Stingmon, the overwhelming sense of connection with Daisuke and Vee- oh, he’d missed that.

Daisuke’s solid presence at his side, Wormmon’s attentiveness, that hadn’t changed when he’d left the battlefield. But there simply was no comparison to being in a fight, being in complete sync with Daisuke, knowing what he was going to do without words or signals.

Even without activating the Jogress, Daisuke’s heartbeat grew to thunder in his head, filled every corner of his chest. They’d never really lost that connection after he’d stopped fighting, but it had faded, Daisuke’s heartbeat growing faint. In battle, he didn’t have to reach for it, barely had to think about it. Ken had missed it, to a degree he hadn’t realized.

Ken wanted, almost viciously, for a full Jogress, which they hadn’t done for over a year.

Ken tilted his face into the wind, breathing deep. The air was crisp so close to the mountain; he could see the beginnings of snow on the ground, though this was as far north as their territory went. He looked over at Daisuke and XV-mon, taking the time to admire the easy grace the two flew with.

Daisuke grinned over at him, bright and easy. He winked; then, without warning, XV-mon’s wings folded and they nosedived for the ground. Ken sighed, exasperated and amused, not really surprised at all. He tightened his hold on Stingmon then motioned him to follow.

Daisuke and XV-mon were already standing off against the Chosen. Stingmon flew in close but didn’t land, instead hovering at XV-mon’s shoulder, half-hidden in his shadow. Ken’s heartbeat spiked up, racing with anticipation. Daisuke glanced over at him, glint of his eyes broadcasting he’d felt the change.

There was a moment of stillness, everyone watching each other. Ken caught the quick hand signal Yagami used, just before Holsmon and Digmon flew forward. They slammed towards XV-mon, who immediately flew up, taking to the air again.

Stingmon moved to follow when he ran into Pegasmon and Nefertimon. The two dove at him, forcing him back in a quick movement. Ken glanced over at Daisuke, snarling when he realized Stingmon was being forced farther away from XV-mon than he was comfortable with. Ken was caught somewhere between annoyed and impressed.

Nefertimon flew towards them for another attack; Ken saw Daisuke’s attention snap towards them in response. With a surge, XV-mon broke past Holsmon and Digmon to help back him up, though Stingmon was already moving to avoid it. In XV-mon’s wake, Holsmon and Digmon began to fly away.

XV-mon charged in, before Nefertimon could change course to avoid him. XV-mon slammed into her. Nefertimon fell, wings bent awkwardly from the force. Stingmon swept after her as XV-mon squared off with Pegasmon. Nefertimon steadied; Yagami looked up, eyes going wide at how close they suddenly were. Ken grinned, sharp and nasty, as Nefertimon tried to back away. Too slow, too late, and it was nothing for him to grab Yagami’s jacket. He used the grip to lift her, grinning at how the color left her face. He shoved her away; watched her fall off-balance and slide off Nefertimon’s back.

A ringing started in his ears, low beneath the dual heartbeats in his ears.

There were cries across the battlefield as Yagami fell.

Holsmon and Digmon turned to help, though they were already high up and far away; Pegasmon managed to get around XV-mon and dove after Yagami. Stingmon drew back as Nefertimon struck out at them once then dropped after Yagami.

Yagami was caught quickly by Takaishi, who helped boost her back onto Nefertimon.

Stingmon moved into the backline; Ken used the change to examine the battlefield. Holsmon and Digmon had stopped their return, leaving them in a weird place, too far from the other Chosen to help, too close for Daisuke to overlook. Nefertimon and Pegasmon were in front of them. For the moment, they were unhindered should they try to retreat to the rest of their team, but Daisuke was baring down on them fast.

Ken watched as Daisuke fought, looking for the openings Daisuke provided, keeping an eye out for when Daisuke needed someone to catch him. Daisuke had rid himself of the reckless habit of throwing himself airborne after Ken had stopped fighting; Ken supposed it was too much to hope that he wouldn’t pick it back up now.

The buzzing in his his ears turned deafening, drowned out even the sound of Daisuke’s heartbeat. The world tilted sideways.

_Oh_ , Ken thought, swaying unsteadily. He reached out, tried to steady himself. He met air, swayed off-balance, and began to fall.

*****

Hikari’s first sign something had gone terribly wrong was XV-mon stopping suddenly in the middle of a charge. On his back, Daisuke turned to look behind him, utterly ignoring her.

Hikari craned up, searching for whatever had caught their attention. A viciously cold ball of dread bloomed sharp in her chest even before she registered what was happening. 

Ichijouji was falling.

Stingmon was already diving after him, hands outstretched. XV-mon about-faced, shooting towards them

Hikari looked over at the rest of her team. “Did we do that?” she demanded, despite knowing there was no way no one on her team could have knocked Ichijouji loose. It was just that Ichijouji was too good to just fall by accident. It was hard to imagine a series of events where he fell by accident.

Takeru shook his head, eyes wide, expression flummoxed. “We didn’t. He just fell.”

Hikari looked back. Stingmon had caught Ichijouji, bundled him up in his arms, and was bringing them in for a landing. Once on the ground, Stingmon settled Ichijouji down, though he kept one hand held out as if prepared to catch him again. XV-mon coasted down to them; Daisuke didn’t wait for his partner to land before jumping off and running for Ichijouji. Ichijouji tried to stand, only to stumble and fall back into Stingmon’s hold. Daisuke knelt in front of him, gripping his arms, talking too softly for Hikari to hear. Daisuke waved a hand at XV-mon without turning away from Ichijouji. XV-mon obediently flew up, positioning himself between her team and his.

“Hikari,” Takeru called, “are we running?”

Hikari didn’t respond. She was more focused on the tableau on the ground then XV-mon hovering threatening in front of them. Daisuke looked up at them, still clutching at Ichijouji’s arms. Even from here, she could see the whites of his eyes.

_Oh_. How many times had she ever seen Daisuke scared?

“Hikari,” Takeru called again.

She pressed her lips together again, trying to think fast. Something had clearly gone wrong; Ichijouji was still out of sorts, not bothering with standing, leaning full against Stingmon; It was a show of weakness she doubted they’d being seeing if he had a choice. Daisuke’s attention was wholly on Ichijouji, barely any room for them or even his own partner.

The group was unsettled, off-center in a way she’d never seen. The chance to take them both out at the same time wasn’t one she could ignore.

She turned and waved Miyako and Iori back. “Let’s do this,” she ordered.

Takeru nodded, and Pegasmon charged for XV-mon. At her signal, Digmon flew forward to join him. When Pegasmon angled to pin XV-mon between himself and Digmon, Nefertimon and Holsmon flew past towards the group on the ground. XV-mon started as she flew past, turned to chase after them with an expression of panic. He ran right into Digmon; he barely dodged around, the action cumbersome enough he couldn’t gain enough speed to catch up.

Stingmon responded to their approach first, tipping Ichijouji from his hold into Daisuke’s and flying to meet Holsmon and Nefertimon. Nefertimon fainted dodging around to go after the two humans on the ground; when Stingmon moved to prevent the attack, Holsmon slammed into his side. His talons couldn’t pierce through Stingmon’s armor, but they left deep gorges.

“Stingmon!” XV-mon called, attempting to fly to Stingmon’s side. On the ground, Ichijouji was attempting to get to his feet, with Daisuke still supporting him; Ichijouji’s eyes were huge, focused on his partner.

Digmon and Pegasmon dove for XV-mon again. XV-mon twisted to dodge them, was forced into dropping several feet to avoid them. The time it took to regain height to the rest of them of them cost him. Holsmon’s “ _Tempest Wing!_ ” slammed into Stingmon’s side when he was distracted by Nefertimon.

Stingmon fell several feet; XV-mon finally reached them, slamming into Nefertimon’s side and preventing her next attack. XV-mon immediately flipped around and headed for Stingmon, using the bulk of his body to shield Stingmon.

Her team regrouped in front of the two. Hikari examined Stingmon and XV-mon. There was a half-wild, panicked thing in XV-mon’s eyes; she knew that look, remembered it from when they’d tried to trap Daisuke. XV-mon was not a digimon easily panicked, but when he was, when it was someone other than himself taking the hits, he got sloppy. She’d seen it before; it was what had allowed them to control the fight during their trap so easily.

Stingmon himself looked rough, long, deep scratches across his armor-like carapace. She wasn’t sure how much damage that was to Stingmon, it was hard to tell how much of the wounds had reached below the carapace. Despite that he was facing them, his head was turned down towards his partner on the ground; almost all of his attention seemed to be there. 

Hikari looked across at her team and nodded. They swept forward immediately. XV-mon flew to meet Holsmon’s charge; when Holsmon tried to dodge around him, XV-mon managed to dig a hand into the feathers of Holsmon’s wing. XV-mon yanked, pulling Holsmon around, and practically tossed him in Nefertimon’s direction.

Miyako shouted, half warning, half simple shock. Nefertimon just dodged Holsmon’s fumbling, dropped down in XV-mon’s way so he couldn’t attack Holsmon while Holsmon straightened himself out.

Stingmon, focus still half on the ground, was not nearly as quick to react as XV-mon. 

“ _Gold Rush!_ ”

Stingmon’s head snapped around at the call, but he didn’t respond in time. Digmon’s attack slammed into him full on. Stingmon staggered under the weight, falling a little. Those deep gorges worsened, widened to gapping everywhere Digmon’s drills hit. Stingmon was wavering in the air wildly, going up then suddenly dropping again, unable to hold a steady altitude. It took a second for Hikari to realize why. One of Stingmon’s wings was clipped through.

Stingmon shook his head, looking a little dazed; perhaps he’d taken one of the hits to the head. Pegasmon flew in, angling down for a strike against Stingmon. 

XV-mon’s wings folded and he dropped, attempting to reach Stingmon. Nefertimon flew after him. “ _Curse of Queen!”_ XV-mon twisted, managing to avoid the attack, looked back up at her; his eyes still had that sharp-edged panic, but they were also furious. 

Below, Stingmon managed to dodge around Pegasmon, but not Digmon following in his shadow, not with his injured wing. Digmon slammed into his side. Stingmon took the hit, but managed to twist; one of his stingers buried in the soft spot under Digmon’s own wings. Digmon pulled away.

The rip in Stingmon’s wing had widened from the hit. He couldn’t keep altitude anymore, was dropping slowly; his armor looked wrong, almost crumbling. Hikari frowned at him, let Nefertimon carry the concern about XV-mon. _How hard did we hit him?_

Pegasmon wheeled around for another attack. “ _Silver Blaze!_ ” 

“Stingmon!” Ichijouji shouted, voice pitched to breaking. Her own anxiety spiked sharply at the sound of his voice, the sharp fear. _Wait, wait_ ,she thought, _Can he take that_?

XV-mon bridged the last bit of distance between him and Stingmon and took the hit instead.

He dropped into its path, took it full-on, didn’t even bother to defend himself. It blasted him to the ground since he hadn’t braced himself; Stingmon drifted unsteadily down to be by his side, attempting to guard him. 

Hikari glanced down at Ichijouji and Daisuke. Daisuke was holding Ichijouji back, arm tight around his chest. His eyes were pinned on their partners though, still too big. “Vee? You okay?” Daisuke called.

XV-mon pushed himself to his feet, gave one great big shake. She could see the marks where Pegasmon’s attack had hit. XV-mon looked up at them. “Is Stingmon okay?”

“I’m alright,” Stingmon said. Hikari tried to not see the way Ichijouji slumped in Daisuke’s hold, shoulders bowing with relief.

“Then so am I,” XV-mon said.

Ichijouji pushed himself away from Daisuke, exchanging a look with him. There was something hardening in his face, the same patient coldness from when Daisuke had been hurt. Shivers crawled up Hikari’s spine. Still, she tried to insist to herself, Stingmon was hurt badly and XV-mon was currently focused on protecting him. They couldn’t put up a difficult fight.

Whatever was in Ichijouji’s look, Daisuke nodded. “Vee!” he called, “We’re not risking it. Jogress!”

Light filled the area; Hikari squinted through it and wasn’t wholly sure she understood what she was seeing. When it cleared, there was a single digimon standing on the ground, staring up at them. XV-mon blue hide, his red eyes; Stingmon’s green carapace and terrifying spikes. He had none of either’s injuries. _If XV-mon and Stingmon were Adults,_ a distant part of her calculated, _then that is a Perfect_.

_Fuck_.

On the ground, some of the tension left Ichijouji’s shoulders at the sight of the digimon. Hikari gulped thickly, hand tucking around her goggles. Both boys looked up at her, the turn of their heads happening in the same second; their expressions were matched in fury. Hikari shivered, wilted beneath the stares.

There was going to be consequences for this.

“Paildramon,” Daisuke called, “You good?”

Paildramon nodded.

“Then let’s try this again,” Ichijouji said.

A grin split across Paildramon’s face, so much like XV-mon. “Gladly.”

Paildramon swept up towards them, guns aiming for Nefertimon. Her team scattered, trying to avoid the shots ripping through the air. Pegasmon screamed as he miscalculated a turn and bullets shredded through his wings; he immediately dedigivolved and human and partner began to fall.

Holsmon scooped them both up. Hikari looked over her team; Digmon was limping along, the muscles under his wings damaged from the previous hit from Stingmon. Holsmon seemed okay, just a few feathers out of place, but Patamon was completely out of it. With all four of them in good shape, taking on a perfect would be difficult; with two it was going to be a massacre. 

She hissed out, frustration and fear pulling apart her chest. She motioned her team to begin retreating. Paildramon followed, faster than she expected, guns leveling at her team. Hikari snarled, ducked down against Nefertimon and nudged her knees into Nefertimon’s sides. 

Nefertimon sped up, throwing herself between Paildramon and Holsmon. The sound of the guns came from behind her. Hikari tried to make herself smaller as Nefertimon began dodging. Bullets still ripped across her flank; Hikari winced when she saw the gashes appear, just missing the edge of Nefertimon’s armor.

Paildramon pulled back then, allowing them to complete their escape. Hikari looked back as Nefertimon carried her away. Paildramon was returning to Daisuke and Ichijouji, landing next to them. Both Daisuke and Ichijouji reached for Paildramon at the same time, stepping into Paildramon’s grip in sync. Paildramon rose into the air again, but he wasn’t chasing them. Hikari turned away.

*****

Right, so.

She was going to write that one down as another fuck up.

Hikari could tell herself again and again that the team didn’t blame her but by now the words felt hollow. Repeated too many times to be reassuring. (“Hikari-san,” Iori would say and nothing more. Reassurance in the warm weight of his hand on her arm, the unbending mountain of will behind her, ready to support her should she falter. And it was almost, almost enough, only she wasn’t sure what she’d done to deserve that kind of unwavering loyalty.) Some little voice in the back of her head wondered when they were going to get tired of forgiving her mistakes. When the team was full of people better than her -smarter, stronger, surer- she wasn’t sure what the point of her was.

“A Perfect,” Miyako muttered. They stood outside the school, watching the other students pass by. 

Hikari shivered, remembering how oddly, creepily in sync Daisuke and Ichijouji had been at times. Like someone had reached into them and tied together some essential part of them both. Like the digivolution had somehow made them one person in two bodies. Like they were echoing the shape of their partners. Or their partners were echoing them.

“How are we supposed to fight a Perfect? We can barely fight them when they’re Adults,” Miyako hissed. There was a wildness to her eyes, a jerkiness to her movements that showed how much the thoughts had been bothering her.

Hikari had no answer for her so didn’t say anything.

The silence behind her was much more telling than her own.

She shared a look with Miyako then they both turned to look at Takeru. He was looking at the floor, face pale and drawn. Their continued silence caused him to look up; he started when he saw he was being watched. “Oh, um,” Takeru tried to rally, but his smile came out thin and unbelievable. “We’ll manage?”

“Try again and make that a statement,” Miyako ordered.

Takeru winced a little and his smile faltered.

“What’s wrong?” Hikari asked.

Deep lines appeared at the corners of Takeru’s eyes. “It’s… Stingmon took a few bad hits, right?”

“I suppose so, yeah,” Hikari agreed. She remembered the way his armor had been scored, scorched black. How Ichijouji’s voice had broken.

Takeru nodded, head dipping so he was watching the ground again. “I was thinking about it last night. He was… really hurt. That’s why they did that weird digivolution. Because he was at risk.”

“Yeah,” Miyako agreed. She frowned a little and ran a hand through her hair. “You know, it’s weird. I didn’t think we were hitting him that hard.”

“He was focused on Ichijouji. So he wasn’t countering us like he should have been,” Hikari said. Miyako’s frown deepened, so Hikari sighed and added, “XV-mon could have taken the hits. Because he’s the front-line fighter, he’s used to the abuse. Stingmon, with how he fights, he wouldn’t be used to taking the full brunt of damage. Especially with all the time he hasn’t been fighting at all.”

They were watching her. Takeru’s eyebrows had shot up, whatever had been bothering him now far from his mind. Miyako blinked at her slowly.

“What?”

“I guess, I just never thought of it like that. What kind of differences there were between XV-mon and Stingmon,” Miyako said.

“I don’t think I really noticed,” Takeru added.

Hikari flushed a little, ducking her head. Before she could say anything, someone slammed into her shoulder, knocking her forward. Miyako caught her arm when she stumbled forward, holding her steady. Hikari turned towards the person who had shoved her.

Daisuke.

There was nothing friendly or soft about him. There wasn’t even the illusion of it. His mouth was twisted in ugly snarl and his eyes- Hikari shivered under his glare, curling closer to Miyako. The lighting had turned his eyes from their almost gold to something nearly yellow. It made worse the anger shining through his glare; it wasn’t just meaner than she was used to, it was wilder, half-mad.

“Watch your back, Princess,” Daisuke hissed, then kept walking. He marched, stalked, moved like a storm trapped in skin and people rushed out of his way.

Miyako’s laugh was a tiny, nervous thing. “Oh, they’re not letting this go.”

Takeru sighed. “Stingmon was hurt really bad yesterday. Pegasmon’s attack, we could have killed him. From the way they reacted, I’m sure of it.”

“You didn’t realize how hurt he was,” Hikari said, aiming for gentle. “It’s not your fault.”

Takeru shrugged. “Still kept me up all night.”

Hikari didn’t have an answer for that, a way to ease the guilt from Takeru’s face. She tried to smile and knew it came out thin.

“You know,” Miyako said, still watching the path Daisuke had taken. “If we’re lucky, Daisuke-kun will be the one coming after us for this, not Ichijouji.”

“How is that lucky?” Takeru asked, “He doesn’t seem like the kind of person to go easy on us.”

“Well, at least compared to Ichijouji, he’ll target us. Not someone else.” A forlorn look crossed Miyako’s face. “I can handle whatever he throws at us. Just as long as it's thrown at us.”

Takeru sighed again. “Yeah, I feel that,” he said. He reached over, threw an arm around Miyako’s shoulders. “Come on, let’s get to class. We’ll just have to see what they throw at us in the Digital World.”

Hikari followed a few steps behind them, not far enough to be out of the group. But at least like this she could watch their backs.

Takeru looked over his shoulder at her, eyebrows rising in question. She nodded back at him and didn’t say anything. She couldn’t shake the low, creeping dread spreading throughout her body. It had been spreading since she met Daisuke’s eyes. She knew there were going to be consequences for hurting Stingmon so bad and not following through to win the battle. But something deep in her gut kept saying this was different.

She was used to Daisuke’s anger, knew what it was like. Daisuke was an angry person, it was simply part of who he was, in ways she never would have expected before his unmasking. His anger now was different than she was used to. It was wilder, an edge to it she wasn’t familiar with.

She wasn’t sure what that new wildness was willing to do.

Miyako split from them to go to her own class. Hikari waved after her, only to turn and find Daisuke watching from the doorway of his own class. She shivered and hurried inside her classroom; the weight of Daisuke’s attention following her the whole way. Inside the room, Takeru caught her hand, squeezed it reassuringly, and let it go. “I’m here,” he said. She nodded.

Though she only saw Daisuke a few more times throughout the day, she felt haunted by the cut of his attention. It burned a hole in her nerves as the day creeped by, until she was jumping at even Takeru’s presence, if he appeared too suddenly and too close to her side.

“Ready to go?” Takeru asked as class drew to a close.

Hikari nodded, eager to be away from Daisuke’s anger and everyone who was side-eying her jitteriness. 

“How are you?” Takeru asked, as they began to walk away from the classroom. 

“I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Takeru took a minute to answer, watching her with dark, sad eyes. “Because you’re never okay these days.”

“You don’t have to worry about me,” Hikari said as they walked through the school yard and started their way home.

Takeru sighed and the sadness in his eyes changed to frustration. Hikari tried not to wince at it. “Worrying about this team seems to be my job. Though everyone seems intent on keeping to themselves.”

“Not you?”

“Nah, I’m trying this thing where I talk about my problems. I think it's working out well.”

“So you’re feeling better than this morning?” Hikari asked. The crowds of students were thinning the closer they got to the apartment, allowing them a bit more privacy. Hikari felt glad for it; they were already becoming the weird kids at school, with the injuries they kept coming in with. There were enough rumors bouncing around.

Takeru gave her an unimpressed look. “I know what you’re doing,” he said. He didn’t say anything else, eyes flickering away from her. His expression hardened. Hikari took a breath, already knowing what to expect, and turned as well.

Daisuke walked towards them, steps measured, still that slow stalk from that morning. He was looking right at them with a sharp, unwavering attention.

“Just keep walking,” she ordered, “He’s trying to unsettle us.”

Takeru huffed but stayed in step with her. “Well, he’s managing. I keep expecting him to stab me in the back.”

Hikari didn’t say anything, though she felt the same. They kept walking; she held her breath as Daisuke drew near, though she wasn’t actually expecting him to try anything, not here outside the Digital World.

So she wasn’t prepared for Daisuke acting. Daisuke grabbed Takeru’s arm, viper-quick, tugging him off-balance before they could react. Once Takeru was off balance, Daisuke dragged him out of view of the crowd.

Hikari hurried after, heart racing. Takeru yelped as he was thrown against a wall, Daisuke’s arm across his shoulder pinning him in place. “Daisuke, wait,” Hikari said.

Daisuke ignored her, pressing his weight further against Takeru as the other boy began to struggle. Daisuke dug into his pocket, showing no sign of being affected by Takeru’s struggles. He pulled out a swiss army knife; it made a sharp slick sound when the knife flipped out. Daisuke pressed it to Takeru’s neck. 

Hikari froze.

Takeru stopped struggling.

Daisuke didn’t do anything for a long moment. He stood, breathing heavily, face twisted. The knife itself was a tiny thing, the multitool it was a part of a worn out red. Still, she could see the sharpness of the knife despite its size. Daisuke took a deep breath, gulped, seemed to struggle for words. “Vee and I, we’re soldiers. We’re used to taking a few bad hits.”

The tiny knife pressed deeper into Takeru’s neck. Takeru’s breathing caught noticeably, all color vanishing from his face. Hikari watched the knife, aware of every millimeter Takeru’s skin sunk beneath the pressure. However, Daisuke’s hands were steady and the skin didn’t split, despite how thin it rested over Takeru’s trachea.

“Stingmon,” Daisuke continued. Hikari shivered at the way the name fell from his mouth, heavy and gentle and choked, like it was something precious beyond words. “You see, he’s just a bodyguard. He takes care of Ken. He’s Ken’s _world_. Now, me and Vee, you can do whatever you want to us. You fucking touch Stingmon again? I’ll destroy you.”

The knife moved from the front of Takeru’s neck to the side. Daisuke’s smile was an awful, vicious thing, full of trembling rage. “Do we understand each other?” Daisuke asked. A thin line of blood appeared around the edge of the knife.

Takeru’s hands were shaking where they were pressed against the wall behind him. He was breathing fast and shallow now; he was clearly trying his best not to move. “Yes,” Takeru managed, word hissed out between his teeth.

Daisuke didn’t do anything for a long moment, just stared Takeru down. Takeru’s brows furrowed as he stared back, expression twisting into something almost thoughtful.

Hikari didn’t say anything, barely dared to move for fear of setting Daisuke off.

The knife dug in deeper. Takeru’s expression of almost realization twisted up into pain. “Good,” Daisuke said and that terrible smile became nothing more than a slash of teeth. Daisuke pulled away all at once, knife carving down with none of his previous care. Takeru cried out, falling to the ground, hands clapping to his neck. Hikari could just see blood beginning to leak under his fingers.

“Takeru!” Hikari shouted, dropping down next to him without any regard for Daisuke. She laid her hands over Takeru’s, pressing hard. Takeru was breathing too fast, breathes chopping out short and shallow and scared.

“Goodbye princess,” Daisuke said. His tone was final, dangerous, to the point Hikari bent instinctively over Takeru, as if to hide him from further harm. Daisuke didn’t sdo anything beyond the cruel uptwist of his mouth and walked away.

“Takeru,” Hikari said, as sweetly gentle as she could manage. It didn’t quite hide the shaking in her voice. “Takeru, come on, breathe for me.”

Takeru didn’t seem to hear her; his breathing picking up into hyperventilating.

“Takeru, you’re going to be fine,” Hikari said. She took one hand away and began to undo the necktie of her uniform. She gently moved Takeru’s hands, ignoring how his breath wheezed out in protest. Once his hands were out of the way, she could see the wound better. It wasn’t big, and she didn’t think it was very deep. There was blood smeared across his neck, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as she’d first feared, certainly not as bad as it would be if Daisuke had hit something vital.

Hikari made herself take a deep breath, through her hands continued to shake. She folded her necktie and pressed it against the wound. “Hold this,” she ordered, pressing Takeru’s hands back over the necktie.

His eyes were huge, all white, and though he obeyed, she didn’t think he was absorbing any of it.

She pressed her hands to each of his cheeks, moving his head until he was looking her in the eye. Takeru’s pupils were huge, his eyes pitch. “You’re going to be okay,” she said, “I promise.”

Takeru’s breathing kicked down a notch, out of hyperventilating, though still too fast for her comfort. She dug into her pocket, drew out her phone, and started dialing. She never took her eyes off Takeru’s. “Miyako-chan?” she said as soon as she heard the call go through. “Where are you? I- we need help. It’s Takeru. There’s just. I need help.”

“Hikari-chan? Hikari-chan, calm down. I’m coming. Just tell me where you are.”

She listed off the street name, before all her attention turned back towards Takeru. His breathing was continuing to settle, color slowly returning to his cheeks.

“You’re okay,” she said again, “I’ve got you.”

“I’m okay,” he said back, a little breathless.

When Miyako appeared and saw Takeru, she stumbled, let out a wordless cry. The necktie pressed against Takeru’s neck was slowly turning dark red. “Oh my god,” Miyako breathed, falling to her knees next to them. “What happened?”

“Daisuke-kun happened,” Hikari said, voice tight. “Help me.”

Between her and Miyako, they managed to help lift Takeru to his feet. He stumbled, crashed into her side, hands still folded against his neck. “It’s okay, you’re okay,” Hikari said immediately, changing her hold to better brace him.

“Your place is closest,“ Miyako said. Hikari nodded in agreement and started maneuvering them in that direction. “Hey, hey, can you hold him? I’m going to call Kido-san.”

Miyako called Jou. Word spread quickly from there. By the time they helped Takeru into the Yagami apartment, managing to avoid too many people from seeing them, Hikari’s phone hadn’t stopped ringing. Taichi was waiting for them at the door; his look of concern melted into complete shock when he saw them. He helped them settle Takeru onto the couch; Koushiro was also there and he offered his jacket, tucking it behind Takeru’s neck so no blood would leech onto the couch. 

Takichi looked over at her once Takeru was settled. “Please tell me this wasn’t-”

“Daisuke-kun,” she confirmed.

Taichi’s eyes slid closed, expression fracturing in pain. He turned away without a word.

Plotmon came sprinting out of her room, dancing about her feet with wide eyes. “Hikari, are you okay?” Plotmon asked.

“Yes,” she agreed. Plotmon kept looking between her and Takeru, eyes huge and unsure.

Jou arrived quickly after. He was grim, face set, before he even saw Takeru. Hikari watched as he sat down next to him on the couch and peeled away her necktie. Takeru made a pained noise, twitching away even as he bent his neck for Jou to look at.

“I did what I could,” Hikari said. The words came out strange, her tongue numb. Back in her home, surrounded by her allies, with no need to be in control, the shock was settling in. Something terribly cold was slipping into her veins.

“You did fine,” Jou said, not looking at her.

Hikari picked Plotmon up, held her close. She began to run her hands through whatever of Plotmon’s short fur she could reach without dropping her. Plotmon’s heat burned against her fingers but didn’t sink in. Hikari still felt oddly cold.

Miyako fluttered around fretfully, hands wringing. Jou cleaned Takeru’s wound, hands steady where hers had shook. Takeru sat, patient, color returning, breath evening.

She watched, numb to her core.

Yamato swept in then, as peaceful as a storm. Sora followed on his heels, carrying Tokomon. Tokomon started squirming about as soon as he saw Takeru, breaking out of Sora’s hold and soaring over to his partner. Takeru smiled as Tokomon landed in his arms, though he was doing his best not to disturb Jou’s work. As he wasn’t allowed to talk, all Takeru could do to reassure Tokomon was hold him tightly.

“I’m going to hurt Motomiya,” Yamato said as Jou was pressing the last bandage against the wound. “I’m going to kill him.”

Taichi made a quiet sound, wholly involuntary. Yamato whirled on him. “No, enough! How much room are we giving this asshole? Are we seriously still giving him leeway?”

Taichi drew back, lips pressed thin. She couldn’t see his eyes.

“Yamato,” Sora said, voice warning. 

“He almost killed Takeru!”

“No, actually,” Jou said, breaking through the argument calmly. He was packing up his bag; some of the grimness had left his face, though there was still something tired and weary about him. “Motomiya-kun avoided most of the major veins, and everything that would disrupt breathing. He was careful to be scary but not threatening. Truthfully, the panic attack was more dangerous.”

“You’re fucking joking,” Yamato said.

Jou shook his head. He looked down at Takeru. “You’re going to be fine. Change the bandages regularly, don’t pick at it.” 

Takeru nodded but he wasn’t looking at anyone. He was watching his hands. They were coated in dried blood; so was his collar. 

Hikari looked down at her own hands. Blood was drying in the creases of her skin, flaking in bits at her cuticles. She looked back up, strangely numb.

Koushiro approached, stood at her side. “I know this isn’t the best time but I came here to talk with you.” Hikari looked over at him. “I can come back tomorrow.”

Hikari sighed, tried to find some energy. As much as she didn’t want to, she motioned with her head for him to follow her. She led him into the corner of the kitchen farthest from where the others were gathered. “Is this about Daisuke-kun’s search?” she asked. She could see Miyako was watching her, though she was sticking close to Takeru.

“No. There’s still a lot of information to pick through. There's something else.”

Hikari made a sound that was almost a laugh. “What is it?”

“Those contacts of mine who went into hiding when we pissed off the Kaiser. Well, they’re finally coming out of the woodwork again and they’re saying some interesting things. Apparently, the hit we managed on Motomiya is getting a lot of attention.”

“Attention?”

“You know no one trusts us. Because we’re human. Well, it seems hurting Motomiya that badly, and pissing off Ichijouji that much, it’s given us some… legitimacy. I wouldn’t call it trust just yet, but it's getting there. Digimon have been reaching out for more than just information. And there’s a group. They want to retake Full Metal City, use it as a kind of base of their own. They want our help. I’ve been getting the impression it's a chance to prove once and for all we really are against the Empire.”

Hikari stared. That sounded less like a battle and more like a full-out assault. An assault on a level she’d never experienced before. And the continued trust of the Digital World was relying on it. There was blood drying on her hands and she couldn’t feel anything but tired. “I’ll think about it,” she said.

“Hikari-kun, we need this. Both the support and the city.”

“I’ll… think about it.”

Koushiro watched her for another moment, then nodded. His expression was a terrible thing, all disappointment; if she didn’t feel quite so cold, she’d probably be crumbling beneath it. “We’ll talk later then,” he said, and left her alone.

Hikari walked back into the living room. Koushiro said his goodbyes, headed for the door. Hikari pretended not to see the curious looks she was getting.

Jou seemed to be done with giving Takeru instructions. As Jou stepped back, Yamato walked over and settled his hand on Takeru’s shoulder. “Hey, come on, let’s get you cleaned up and take you home.”

Takeru let himself be pulled to his feet, still carrying Tokomon. Yamato started to lead Takeru towards the door; Takeru resisted when they passed by her. He turned to look at her fully. Hikari braced herself for more of Takeru’s reassurances and wasn’t prepared for Takeru saying seriously, “He was scared.” 

“What?” Yamato asked, watching Takeru closely.

“Motomiya-kun,” Takeru said but he hadn’t looked away from her, like he needed to make sure she understood the weight of what he was saying. “I mean, yeah, he was angry. But he was scared too. Terrified.”

“He almost cut your throat open,” Yamato pointed out. His expression was tight, building again into anger.

Takeru nodded, easy agreement. “Yeah.”

_Scared little boy, lashing out at the world,_ Hikari thought suddenly, remembering Daisuke at the temple, breaking down, striking out at anything that happened to be nearby. Something in the back of her mind woke up, started to spin. “I understood.”

Takeru nodded. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I hope you feel better.”

Takeru smiled weakly, touching the bandage at his neck with hesitant fingers. “Tired,” he muttered. 

Yamato snorted, tugging his brother in close. “I bet,” he said as Takeru settled his head on Yamato’s shoulder. “Come on.”

Hikari watched the two shuffle to the door. Yamato paused briefly, looking back at Taichi; they left without another word. Miyako approached, eying her curiously. “Tomorrow,” Hikari promised.

Miyako nodded. “Then I’m going to go too.”

Once Miyako left, Jou walked over, looking her over with dark, kind eyes. “Are you okay, Hikari-kun?”

“Yes. he didn’t touch me,” Hikari said. Daisuke never did, went after the others to get back at her mistakes.

“There are other ways to be hurt,” Jou said, infinitely kind.

Hikari felt cold through.

“I’m fine,” she said again. Takeru would be the staggering home and trying to scrub out blood stains, carrying the guilt of hurting Stingmon when she’d given the order to attack. Of course she was fine.

Jou watched, unsure, for a long moment. Then he straightened, nodded, and began to depart.

She left Taichi and Sora to themselves, instead heading into her room. She collapsed in bed, curling up; her goggles pressed against the bone of her jaw, stiff and uncomfortable. Plotmon jumped up and pressed against her. “Are you okay?” Plotmon asked, the only one Hikari ever even considered telling the truth to.

“I don’t know.” She sighed out and pulled Plotmon close. Her thoughts spun rapidly, like they were chasing each other.

Daisuke had been scared, even a day later, even though he’d run the battle. She kept thinking about how he’d said Stingmon’s name, how gentle and broken he’d made it, like Stingmon’s lose would have broken them.

_He’s Ken’s world._

“Never create an enemy who has nothing left to lose,” she muttered, mostly to herself. Plotmon made a curious sound but didn’t actually question her, so Hikari didn’t explain. She wasn’t sure she could, if the roads she was following would make sense to someone else. 

She’d always thought of the warning from the angle of understanding how much her team still stood to lose, how much was riding on her not messing up. Now though, looking at it from the other side, she realized how little they had to lose. It was just the four of them. Daisuke and Ichijouji didn’t have anything left to lose.

Hikari wasn’t sure what to do with the idea, just had the feeling of a handful of puzzle pieces from a barely-started puzzle. Daisuke attacking a pillar to have an outlet; attacking Takeru because he was scared enough to be angry. Ichijouji explaining Daisuke’s injuries, utterly calm; angry beneath the calm. She wondered, now, suddenly, if Ichijouji hadn’t also been scared beneath his anger.

Hikari closed her eyes, tried to push back the thoughts, and yanked at sleep. Her dreams were anxious, twisting things. The blood on her fingers. Daisuke's snarl. Takeru’s raspy, panicked breathing. The clack of Paildramon’s guns.

She woke with the image of Ichijouji falling imprinted against her eyelids. The feeling she was hanging on the edge of something, some realization; a feeling like she could finally see the shape of the puzzle that was the Empire. It shattered under the glare of the sunset through the window.

Hikari sat up, frustration bubbling thickly in her gut. She didn’t feel cold anymore but tears felt close by.

There were voices coming from the living room.

She stood, shuffled over, and opened the door a crack. Pearing out, she found Taichi sitting on the couch. His laptop screen cast strange shadows across the apartment.

“I’m not sorry,” Yamato’s voice said, grainy through the laptop.

It was followed immediately by Sora’s stern, “Yamato.”

Something must have happened onscreen that she couldn’t follow, because Sora didn’t any anything else in reprimand.

“He was my friend,” Taichi said, quiet and sad. Hikari shrunk back a little, hiding in the shadows of the door, like that would hide her from the terrible truth in the words.

“No, he wasn’t,” Yamato said, not angry. Just firm, unwavering, no room for shifting away. “He lied and he manipulated and he used. That’s not friendship.”

Probably more telling was Sora’s silence, her refusal to call Yamato off; her unspoken agreement.

“Taichi, I know that hurts, but it's the truth,” Yamato continued, “And it's going to keep hurting until you accept it.”

“I know.” 

“We’re not going anywhere,” Sora said, “You still have us.”

Hikari stepped away, closed the door, left Taichi to his conversation. She stripped out of her uniform, now stiff and uncomfortable, changed into pajamas, and sat down on her bed. There were texts on her phone when she checked it.

Takeru: _im fine u can stop worrying_

Miyako: _i feel like i jinxed us this morning sorry. Already talked to takeru but how are u_

Koushiro: _I know u said ud think about it but i sent u the details in an email_

Hikari let her phone drop onto the bed and laid down again. There was dried blood across the cover of her phone and she spent the next few hours staring at it.

*****

Daisuke didn’t return to the base until well into the nighttime. Ken slept most of the day, exhausted and feeling stretched thin. He accepted the unusual tiredness with an annoyed tolerance, built from years of experience. He was always tired after such a strong dizzy spell. (He was maintaining that he hadn’t actually blacked out, despite the disconcerting few seconds of falling her couldn’t remember.)

Wormmon stayed with him, or, well, he didn’t let Wormmon go. Ken had swooped Wormmon up the second Paildramon dedigivolved, and refused to put him down. Wormmon had let him, even when Ken had been holding him too tight and Daisuke had had to tell him he was going to suffocate Wormmon.

Daisuke had also had to tell him to stop thanking V-mon for the save; apparently he’d been freaking the poor little ‘mon out.

Once he was awake, Ken managed to at least put on his slacks and button down before shuffling towards his private study. He curled up, tucking bare feet under him, and drawing Wormmon into his lap. Wormmon settled easily. Ken rubbed against his carapace; Wormmon couldn’t purr, but Ken could feel pleased vibrations under his fingers as Wormmon melted.

Ken’s first warning that Daisuke had arrived was V-mon calling for Wormmon. Vee appeared at his knees, peering up at Wormmon. Ken smiled slightly, turning his chair so Vee could see Wormmon more.

Vee pressed in close, eyes growing huge. “Are you okay?”

Wormmon squirmed about, looking equal parts pleased and embarrassed by the attention. “I’m okay. I promise,” Wormmon muttered.

V-mon suddenly started to climb up into his lap, with absolutely no concern for his personal space, just so he could press in against Wormmon. Ken looked up, searching for Daisuke. Daisuke was just in the doorway, watching them; there were tight lines at the corners of his eyes. Ken felt his smile slide away, though Daisuke tried to mirror him.

“I’m back,” Daisuke said by way of greeting.

Ken nodded. “Welcome back.”

Daisuke pushed himself from the doorway, walking into the study. Ken kept eying him, those tense lines across his face. Daisuke gently cupped one of his cheeks, leaned in to kiss him. Ken returned it as best he could with his lap full of digimon.

Even once Daisuke pulled back, his hand stayed. Ken leaned into the touch, his eyes falling closed. “How are you feeling?” Daisuke asked, and Ken could feel the weight of his eyes examining him.

“Better. I took a nap with Wormmon. That helped,” Ken said. 

Daisuke kept watching, eyes examining him. The stress lines at the corners of his mouth deepened. “And you?” Ken asked, fingers twitching with the urge to press against those lines.

“Long day,” Daisuke said.

“Want to lay down?”

“I wanted to talk to you,” Daisuke said and that tense thing in his face increased. His eyes flickered down to the digimon in his lap and the hand fell from his face. “Vee, can we have a minute?”

Vee nodded with easy agreement and clambered back off Ken’s lap. On the ground, Vee looked back up with huge eyes. “Wormmon, you want to come?”

Ken’s grip on Wormmon tightened briefly, reflexive, unwilling to let him go just yet. Wormmon looked up at him, his own eyes huge. His resistance melted beneath that gaze; he sighed and let Wormmon go. The two digimon sped away.

Ken looked back at Daisuke. Daisuke’s face was drawn, weary. “What happened?”

“I had a chat with the Chosen, about not hurting Wormmon. They got the message,” Daisuke said.

Ken frowned; beneath the weariness was an edge he wasn’t sure what to do with. In battle, Daisuke was wildfire: fierce and unbending, sharp enough to cut through armies. But not after the battle, not here where they were safe. Ken wasn’t used to Daisuke’s anger sticking, to lingering; it simply wasn’t in his nature. He wasn’t sure what to do with it.

“So I don’t have to plan my own revenge,” he said, not without a hint of relief. So close after Daisuke being hurt, right on the come down of a bad dizzy spell, he wasn’t sure he had the energy for it. That kind of concentrated rage, the intense dissection of what would hurt the Chosen the most, took more than he felt he currently had available. It was probably unfair, allowing Daisuke to take on this burden as well, but he couldn’t help but be relieved that it wasn’t something he had to think about.

“No, I handled it,” Daisuke said. There was a pause where Daisuke didn’t say anything at all, then, “I don’t want you out there anymore.”

The contentment Ken had been settled into disappeared. “Excuse me?”

“You and Stingmon, I don’t want you fighting anymore.”

Ken struggled to find words, a bit too shocked to be properly outraged. He was left sputtering uncertainly. Daisuke watched him, calm, steady, unyielding, like he’d practiced the words; something shifted in the back of his eyes, belaying that calm. “So I’m just, supposed to, what, just watch you fight?”

“That was our agreement,” Daisuke said, “I handle the fighting, you tell me where to go. I can do that, as long I know you’re here, safe. There’s reasons you don’t fight anymore.”

“The Chosen are a threat. I won’t sit here while you get hurt fighting them.”

“You know what’s a threat? You fainting 60 feet in the air,” Daisuke snapped, calm fracturing.

“I didn’t faint. I just got a little dizzy,” Ken tried.

Daisuke rolled his eyes. “Yeah, sure.”

“Daisuke.”

“Alright. Let’s say all you did was get dizzy. What about next, when you actually do black out? Or have another seizure?”

“I haven’t had a seizure in forever,” Ken snapped.

“Yes you have,” Daisuke said. Ken started, eyes going wide.. Daisuke was watching him, expression terribly sad. Daisuke sighed and continued, “You’ve been hiding it, to make me feel better. So I won’t worry. But I know you.”

“I’m fine,” Ken insisted.

“Wormmon won’t be.”

Ken drew back in his seat with a sharp intake of breath. Daisuke closed his eyes, regret sparking sharp and clear across his expression. He rubbed a hand across his face. “That was, that was low. I’m sorry.”

Ken didn’t say anything in response. His throat felt tight, something in his chest trembling at the idea. Too close; one day wasn’t enough separation from Stingmon being hurt. The thought of it happening again because Stingmon was protecting him made something sick twist up his stomach. Nevermind that Stingmon was under strict standing orders not to risk himself for anything; he’d never listened to those orders before. Ken dropped his eyes, focused on his hands. 

“We’d do everything we could to protect you,” Daisuke said, so gentle now, “but someone’s going to get hurt. You know that. It’s why you stopped going out in the first place.”

“The Chosen,” Ken said, but there was no heat in the words. There was too much truth in Daisuke’s words.

Daisuke walked forwards, knelt down to press his hands against Ken’s knees. “Trust me to handle them, as you’ve trusted me to handle everything else.”

Ken pressed his hands over Daisuke’s, sighing deep. “Okay,” he said, “I’ll stay away.”

Daisuke smiled a little, took one of his hands to press a kiss to his palm. “Thank you.”

Vee called to them suddenly, making Ken look up in surprise. Vee and Wormmon were in the doorway again, both watching with concerned eyes. “Are you two fighting again?” Vee asked, “We heard arguing.”

“We’re fine,” Daisuke assured. He heaved himself back to his feet, sharing one last smile with Ken. “I’m going to make dinner, okay?”

“Okay,” Ken agreed. He watched Daisuke walk away; it wasn’t until Daisuke was in the doorway that he called, “Daisuke?”

Daisuke paused, looked back at him curiously.

“No kneeling.”

Daisuke smiled, bright and huge. “Sure thing. Come on Vee, let’s get some food.”

The two left for the kitchen; Wormmon lingered, watching him. “Is everything okay?”

Ken leaned back in his chair, rubbed a hand over his mouth in thought. Though he knew Daisuke was right, that for now Ken was more of a hindrance in battle than a help, he still hated the idea of sending Daisuke out alone after all the trouble he’d been having. “Do we still have the files for Project Knighthood?” he asked Wormmon.

The little ‘mon’s head tilted in thought. “Um, I think they were removed from the main computers, but they might be in the back ups.”

“Find them for me,” Ken requested.

“Okay,” Wormmon said. He smiled brightly. “I think Daisuke will really like it.”

“Well, yes, he is an overdramatic ass,” Ken agreed, unable to help his own smile. As Wormmon waddled back out to start on his assignment, Ken turned back to his computer and pulled up the files for the Kimera project.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jona and Asmodile created art for this chapter specifically.
> 
> Asmodile [here](http://asmodile.tumblr.com/post/158254378862/god-im-posting-this-from-my-phone-so-hopefully-it)
> 
> And Jona [here](http://koe-s-art.tumblr.com/post/158428879443/jonanokoe-good-luck-protecting-your-loved) ([here's](http://koe-s-art.tumblr.com/post/158481614563/since-theres-no-new-post-for-crests-corrupted) a lined version of the same with different close ups)


	14. Another Lie From the Front Lines

Hikari had been doing a lot of thinking. Her thoughts circled to the inevitable, painful conclusion: she was going to get her whole team killed. 

Maybe she’s always known, in the small, constantly anxious part of her, and had just been ignoring it. It was harder to ignore when she couldn’t get Takeru’s blood out of the edges of her phone.

Koushiro asked again about Full Metal City and despite her exhaustion, her anxiety, the overwhelming certainty it was all going to go wrong, she knew she had a duty to do. She agreed to do it.

The digimon arranging the attack on Fullmetal City met them in the desert, just on the edges of the Kaiser’s territory. The digimon were quiet, drawn thin with stress, shifty with suspicion. And they were a suspicious, anxious bunch: jumped at every wrong sound and barely blinked; some never took their eyes off the Chosen, no matter what. It was bad enough that, when the group started eying the Chosen’s partners, Hikari had them dedigivolve. Just to soothe what anxiety she could, make her team as little a threat as possible.

It made Hikari’s heart hurt, both that the digimon had been reduced to this, these terribly afraid things, and that there was nothing she could do to ease them. Everytime she breached within some invisible distance, they withdrew from her and bristled up like the were preparing for an attack. So Hikari watched her hands, kept an eye on the distance between them, and followed along tamely.

The group had dug a kind of smuggler’s tunnel system beneath the desert, one which stretched from the free zone to deep inside the Kaiser’s territory, just before the city walls. There were plenty of exits, placed all along the line, allowing the digimon to move through the territory somewhat safely. 

“Genius,” Iori said as they followed the digimon through the tunnel. Their guides twitched at the sound of his voice, some glancing back uneasily.

“Cramped,” Miyako, the tallest of them, muttered. She was hunched over as she walked; not technically necessary, but it was a close enough fit Hikari could understand the impulse. Iori glanced over at Miyako and snickered.

The leader of the group, a Kokuwamon, waited for them at the center of the tunnel system -a wide circle designed as a command base, with a high ceiling, boxes stacked all along the walls, full of supplies like food and blankets, papers jammed with notes pressed every where there was space. Kokuwamon watched them approach, looked over every one of them carefully. He wasn’t as twitchy as the others, but he was just as suspicious. “Chosen,” Kokuwamon said and it sounded nothing like a greeting.

Hikari stepped forward and bowed deeply, intimately aware of every detail around her: Tailmon twining around her feet, the shift of her goggles against her neck, the slant of Kokuwamon’s eyes examining her. Other digimon pressed in at the corners: some stood in watch, others hurried in and out carrying more paper and boxes. No matter what they were doing, all attention was on her and her team. Her hands shook a little where they were clasped behind her back. “We’re honored to be included in this,” she said, as polite as she could manage. If she fucked this up, they’d probably never get a second chance and the digimon would never trust them.

Kokuwamon snorted; when she glanced up at him, he looked incredibly unimpressed. “Let’s get started, shall we?”

Hikari straightened and nodded. “Of course.”

“Our intent is to retake Full Metal City,” Kokuwamon said, voice hard, leaving no room for disagreement, for the idea that the humans were the ones in charge. “The city was a stronghold of the resistance, back when there was a resistance. It was the last stronghold, actually. When it fell, so did everything else. The hope is, if we can retake the city, we can begin rebuilding the resistance.”

“We understand. We’ll be happy to help with whatever you need,” Hikari said. She’d seen the city, once, briefly, during her team’s initial time in the area. It was different than what she remembered as a child. Full Metal City, the city of machine digimon, surrounded by desert and walled in a glass dome. When she’d seen it, the city had had a second set of walls, tall enough the top of the dome could barely be seen. Guard towers stretched up at regular intervals along the wall, allowing the Kaiser’s slaves a clear view of the surrounding desert. Outposts dotted the area, providing supplies and back up to the city.

“You've already done quite a lot of work,” Kokuwamon said, “We kept track of your original activity in the area. You weakened the Empire here significantly and we’ve continued that work after you moved on. That’s what’s allowed us to even consider this plan in the first place. The Empire has tried to reinforce, but we’ve been undermining them and you working in other places has allowed us to do so relatively unnoticed. The Empire here is much weaker than it thinks it is. It won’t be able to stage a proper defense quick enough.”

“If this was originally a resistance base,” Iori said, “you know the defenses.”

“What the Kaiser hasn’t changed, yes. When the Empire initially started attacking the city, they set up a blockade, so no supplies or personnel could get through. In response, we dug tunnels under the city, much like these ones, so we could move freely. Most of those tunnels are under Imperial guard now, but we believe we’ve identified spaces where we could connect this tunnel and those and not be found. We could slip our people into the city unseen, hunt down the tower, and destroy it.”

“Once that’s gone, city’s yours,” Hikari said, understanding the intent immediately. It was how the Chosen took over areas: take the tower down first, the freed digimon would help clean out the rest. She sighed then, a quiet little exhale. “What’s the problem?”

“We have no idea where the tower is, and there are almost a hundred digimon in that city,” Kokuwamon answered frankly, “Additionally, while we’ve gone ignored for the most part, the Empire is starting to notice. No doubt they’ve tightened security around the tower. Getting a team inside would be easy but we’d be sending them into a slaughter. They’d never even see the tower.”

“You need a distraction, something to draw attention away from the tower,” Takeru said with understanding. 

“Oooooh, we can do that,” Miyako added, sharing a grin with Takeru next to her.

“That’s what we were hoping for. We keep the breach team small, not more than five digimon. Everyone else, we pretend we’re trying to enter the city the old-fashioned way. Breaking down the gates.”

Kokuwamon stepped out of the way of one of the digimon who was running errands, allowing them to snatch up one of the piles of notes. Hikari frowned a little, watching the digimon skitter away, because she could have sworn that particular pile had just been put down a short while ago. 

“The digimon inside will come out to fight us, leaving the way mostly clear for the breach team,” Takeru said slowly, like he was still in the middle of thinking it through as he did.

It was the same digimon, she realized quickly, the same four or five ducking in and out. They brought one thing and another digimon immediately carried it out again. In one big cycle and nothing seemed to be actually happening with what they were doing.

An illusion, she thought. They were attempting to create an image of activity, but also of numbers. The more she watched, the more she realized there was maybe a quarter of the digimon here than she’d originally assumed there were. All the activity was helping to hide just how few digimon were actually there.

“Yes, exactly,” Kokuwamon said, “Only there are almost a hundred digimon in that city. We have fifteen.” Takeru made a sound of disbelief, slightly strangled. While several of the surrounding digimon gave him annoyed looks, Kokuwamon grimaced in both acknowledgment and agreement. “It’s a problem, I’m aware. One of the reasons we asked for you was the hope that, if other digimon learned you would be fighting with us, they would be more likely to join us. Your name does still hold a lot of weight in certain parts of this world.”

“And the other reason would be fire power,” Tailmon said in a knowing tone.

“Legitimacy as well. If the Chosen of all people are attacking the walls, surely that attack is the true battle.” Kokuwamon said, then shrugged and admitted, “But, yes, mostly fire power. The digimon inside the city are a combination of Adult and Child. Even if we had the numbers, the Adult digimon would shred us. If you can hold them off, we can take on the Child digimon without much problem. All of us here are seasoned fighters. We can more than take on a Ringed Child.”

“Still, even if more volunteer, you’re going to be heavily outnumbered,” Iori said.

“We also have very good healers. The Empire doesn’t care if their digimon live, we do. The gates will open once to let the fighters out, then close. They won’t open again until the battle is over, they won’t take the chance of us getting inside. We’re sure of that. So the slaves won’t have anywhere to retreat to. If we can create a safe zone, somewhere the injured can come to, somewhere for our healers to work, we can keep our people in the fight longer than they can.”

“Such a thing would be difficult to hold,” Hikari muttered, “The Rings make them slow, not dumb. They’ll know to attack that area.”

“Not if they’re too busy fighting the rest of us, including all of you,” Kokuwamon said, “Besides, since we know they won’t open the gates, we can put the zone right up against one of the walls. That way we can’t be attacked on one side. We’ll just have to rush the wall immediately, get those healers into position first thing.”

“Where would you want us?” Hikari asked.

“Flying. Air superiority has always been the Empire’s domain. They have won every battle we couldn’t contest that. You make sure they can’t take that, you take down any digimon that tries to get up there. If you do that, and focus down any Adults, we’ll be able to hold long enough for the tower to fall.”

“It’s going to be close,” Iori said.

“Assuredly.”

“Aside from numbers, what else could work against us?” Hikari asked.

“Well, we need the city standing, obviously,” Kokuwamon said, “We can’t actually risk too much damage to the walls if we’re going to keep the city once we take it. After all, we will still be in the middle of Empire territory.”

“If the area is weakened, then after the city is yours, we can start clearing everything else. It may take a few weeks, but we can keep the pressure on,” Hikari said.

“That’s what we were hoping for,” Kokuwamon said. There was no denying the relief that swept over his face briefly, before he pulled himself together. “And of course, with our own base in the area, we’ll be able to help.”

“Can the city survive that?” Takeru asked. “We’re not overestimating this. It’s going to take weeks.”

“The city defenses were designed to do just that. They have done just that in the past. The Empire took everything else around us, bit by bit, before they managed to break the city. We stood against them for months before we were weak enough to break. And even then, it took a four day assault on the city itself to get through the walls.”

Takeru whistled, long and slow, expression the picture of impressed.

Kokuwamon smirked slightly, then continued, “The other problem is the Knight. He’s been circling.”

“We can handle him,” Hikari promised, despite how the words tasted against her tongue. How she wasn’t actually sure she could stop him anymore. “Do you think he knows what we’re doing?”

“Troop movement hasn’t changed, but I’d be surprised if they don’t realize what’s happening soon. We were subtle, but not that subtle.”

“So we can’t wait forever for more digimon to join us,” Miyako said.

“And we can’t wait forever for the tower to fall. We have until the Knight arrives, then on average, the Kaiser is five minutes behind him,” Kokuwamon said.

“If we can take XV-mon, we can take Stingmon,” Miyako said.

Takeru jerked, turning to look at Miyako and asking in a slightly higher pitched than normal voice, “Um, what?” He waved one hand at his neck briefly, where his collar just revealed the long scab. The skin around it was still vivid red and it would take days to finish healing, but so far Jou had been right. It was healing just fine.

“Oh, you’re healing fine,” Miyako dismissed.

“If you’d just stop picking at it,” Iori added.

“It itches,” Takeru said in weak protest, flushing and embarrassed.

Iori rolled his eyes. “It’s going to scar if you keep that up.”

“Hey,” Hikari said in a soft voice, recalling their attention.

“Sorry,” Miyako said, ducking her head a little in embarrassment.

“Stingmon isn’t the problem. It’s the base,” Hikari said. She looked back at Kokuwamon and saw the truth of her words reflected in his eyes, “We get the city when the tower falls because the tower falling makes the Rings turn off. So the digimon, newly freed, join us, help us control the city, protect it against the Empire.”

“We’ll need them if we’re going to figure out what changes the Empire has made to the city. Make sure the Empire can’t exploit any lack of knowledge on our part,” Kokuwamon added.

“But there’s a tower in the base. If it’s in the area before the tower falls, the Rings won’t deactivate,” Hikari said.

“Our people might be able to take down the tower. But they’ll never get the gates open with the slaves in the way. We won’t be able to get inside to back them up either, and there’s no way five digimon can take whoever stays behind.”

“Everyone outside will be pinned between the slaves inside the city and those in the base,” Hikari continued when he paused, “They’ll be slaughtered. And then the Empire will just, open the gates then and kill whoever is still inside the city.”

“So, really, this whole thing hinges on whoever is inside the city,” Takeru said with understanding.

“Yes, exactly.”

“How long would we need, between taking the tower down inside of the city and the tower at the base taking over?” Iori asked.

“It’s hard to estimate. The Rings come off pretty easily once the towers are down, but it’s going to be chaos. Let’s say, three, four minutes, for people to pull themselves together.”

“We understand,” Hikari said, “We’ll do everything we can to keep those outside safe. When does this happen?”

“I think we can risk a week to gather more people,” Kokuwamon said.

Hikari nodded and bowed again. “Then we’ll see you in a week.”

Kokuwamon watched them all again for several seconds. She couldn’t figure out what he was thinking, if she’d done this right. Finally, Kokuwamon snorted and waved them away.

Hikari followed a Floramon back out through the tunnels. There was still an edge to the atmosphere, despite that she’d thought the meeting had gone well. It itched at her, grated against her nerves, and from how Miyako was twitching, it wasn’t just her. When they emerged from the tunnels, back into the sunlight, Hikari could help her sound of relief. It felt good to be out of the cramped tunnels. Miyako stretched, groaning as she did.

Hikari turned back to Floramon and bowed. “Thank you.”

Floramon sniffed, a delicate little sound, all distaste. “Many of us don’t like you lot being involved in this.”

_Like yourself_ , Hikari thought. Takeru and Iori both went still as they registered the words; Miyako bristled, cat-like, and Hikari wrapped her hand around Miyako’s wrist to stop her from doing anything. Hikari said, “We don’t mean any harm. We just want to help.”

“The Kaiser used to say that too,” Floramon said. Her face wobbled briefly; Hikari knew that look, that mix of sorrow and anger and betrayal. Not quite what she saw in Taichi, or herself, but exactly what she remembered from Strabimon. 

“You knew him,” Hikari said softly.

“The sweetest little thing,” Floramon said. Her tone dipped down into something that was almost affectionate, like even now the memory of Ichijouji as a child was a good one. Then Floramon stiffened up again and continued, “Then he came with his towers and his Rings and he had half the world before we realized what was happening. How far are you all going to get before we realize you’ve stabbed us in the back?”

“That’s not going to happen,” Hikari said.

“Uh huh,” Floramon said, then turned and walked away.

There was a moment’s pause, then Miyako sighed heavily. “That could have gone better.”

“Could have gone worse,” Takeru said, “They’re giving us a chance.”

“Yeah, some chance,” Iori said. The others turned to look at him, half in surprise at a tone that was so unlike him. Iori shifted, looking a little uncomfortable. Still he didn’t take the words back. “You heard them didn’t you? It took the Empire months of work and a four-day assault to take the city. And we’re supposed to do it in forever long it takes Motomiya to get there.”

“Two hours at most,” Miyako guessed, “If we’re lucky and he’s far away when we start.”

“With fifteen people,” Takeru added.

“Well, no one said it was going to be easy,” Tailmon said with a sigh.

Miyako groaned.

Hikari restrained her own sigh. “Come on. Let’s go home.”

“Right.”

Hikari turned towards Tailmon as she digivolved. Behind her, Miyako made a kind of resigned sound. “Suppose we can’t really say no, though. They need us.”

They really did. From numbers to protection, the plan seemed to hinge on her team’s presence. She couldn’t walk away; not only would the digimon never trust her team again, doubtless everyone would die.

“We’re in this then,” Iori said. Hikari made a sound of agreement as she climbed on to Nefertimon’s back. The others behind her did the same. Iori made an aggravated sound as he did and said, “Stop,” in a tone that was practically an order.

She looked over her shoulder in time to see Takeru snatch his hand away from his neck. The skin around his neck was bright with scratch marks. “Sorry.”

Hikari turned away, urging Nefertimon into the sky with her knees. Despite how well Takeru’s injury was healing, Hikari couldn’t shake the memory of panic everytime she saw it, the phantom feeling of blood on her fingers. The dreams of Daisuke’s face twisted with wrath, the shine of the knife. How she hadn’t been able to do anything to protect a member of her team when he’d needed her.

Hikari returned home after making plans with the others for the next meeting. The apartment was empty when she arrived. She tossed her shoes onto the genkan and shuffled into her room, intent on taking a nap. However, no matter how long she laid there, how exhausted she felt, she couldn’t fall asleep. She kept running the plan through her head, even when she wanted to stop.

There was a knock on the apartment door. 

Hikari sighed heavily, pushing herself up. The clock said it had been two hours since she’d arrived home. Frustration welled up as she realized exactly how long she’d been lying there; her eyes burned with it, with the need to sleep. She just, she was so tired.

She pushed herself to her feet and began stumbling over to the door, ignoring the faint dizziness of getting up too fast. “Oh, Iori-kun,” she said in surprise as she opened the door.

Iori bowed a little. “Apologies for dropping by. I had a thought and I wanted to discuss it with you before I forgot.”

“It’s fine,” she said, stepping back. Better than lying in bed driving herself crazy.

“Are you alright?” Iori asked. His face was an open mask of concern that made Hikari ache.

She managed a smile for him, because after everything he did for her, she really didn’t like worrying him. “I’m fine. Would you like some tea?”

“Yes, please.” He followed her into the kitchen, waving hello as Plotmon emerged from the bedroom and joined them. 

“What was it you wanted to talk about?” she asked, putting the kettle on. She turned to face him, leaning back against the stove.

“The safe zone they were talking about. You know it's going to be a big target.”

“Yeah,” Hikari muttered. She ran a hand through her hair, wincing at the pull of knots. How messy could it have gotten while she was lying down?

“I want to be down there with them. Protecting them. They’re going to need someone powerful watching their backs .”

Hikari tried to visualize it in her head. There really wasn’t much around the city, just empty desert. The fighting could spread across the whole of it. There would be so much ground to cover during the fight. “You’d be by yourself,” Hikari realized with a shot of panic, “With how big the area is, with the number of slaves, I can’t assure the team will be nearby to help. If there’s threat, we might not be able to reach you in time.”

“I understand that. That’s why I want to be down there, because we might not be able to back them up on time,” Iori said. He seemed so calm when he said it, like his own safety wasn’t a concern at all. Hikari’s panic kept building at how accepting he seemed of it, until it boiled under her tongue and coated every thought.

“Maybe I can put someone else down there with you,” Hikari said hurriedly, “Takeru works too well with me. Maybe Miyako-chan?” But, no, Holsmon wasn’t designed for ground combat at all.

“If you think that’s best,” Iori said.

Hikari had to pause at his tone. “You don’t think it is, do you? The best.”

“I don’t think we have enough people to cover everyone we need to,” Iori said. He shrugged, but at least now his expression wasn’t so accepting. “I think, no matter what we do, we’re going to have holes, someone not protected properly. We have to decide where those holes are acceptable.”

“They’re not with you. Not with any of you,” she said immediately. She couldn’t stomach the thought of putting her team in danger, not on purpose; she could barely handle it when it was an accident. “I’ll do it.”

“You can’t lead from the ground. You need to be in the air to see what’s going on, especially in a battle this big.”

“Well, maybe I shouldn’t be leading a battle this big,” Hikari said. She hadn’t really meant to say them, it was just- she had to protect her team. And if that was the argument Iori was putting forth, then fine. It wasn’t like she hadn’t been thinking it.

There was silence in response. Iori didn’t say anything, merely closed his eyes with a resigned expression. Hikari’s stomach dropped. She didn’t think she could handle disappointing Iori- Iori, who had been a pillar since the beginning, who’s wordless but clear support had been such a boon over the last few months.

“Hikari,” Plotmon said, quiet and sad.

The kettle started to whistle, making her jump. Still silent, Iori walked forward. Hikari meekly moved out of his way, watching as he poured the hot water and fixed tea for them both. “Sit with me,” he invited, setting both cups on the counter and sitting down.

Hikari hesitated but followed. She braced both hands around her cup, trying to absorb the heat of it through the cold.

Iori was silent for another minute, sipping slowly at his tea. Then he set it down and asked, “Nervous?” His voice was quiet, but not like he was trying to be gentle with her, not like he thought she might break. Which was amazing, frankly; she felt like she was fraying apart at the edges.

“If we fail, they’re all going to die,” she said after a minute.

Iori let out a long, heavy breath, not quite a sigh, and weight seemed to fall across his shoulders. His head dipped down briefly. “Yeah,” he said and she hadn’t seen him look so exhausted before. Nothing of the war ever seemed to weigh on him; she wondered suddenly if that hadn’t been a lie. “Yeah, I got that too.”

“It was one thing when the only thing riding on this was our reputation. But, god, I can’t protect all of them.” _I can barely protect my team._

“Can’t just give up,” Iori said. He didn’t sound annoyed with her; didn’t look it either, when she glanced over at him. “Someone has to fight the Empire. They can’t just be allowed to get away with this.”

“I’m not, I’m not saying quit entirely. I just-” she paused, took a deep breath, before she finally admitted the thought that had been plaguing her since Takeru had gotten hurt, since she’d seen Paildramon, “-I don’t think I should lead. It doesn’t end well.”

Iori actually, physically jolted. She could feel it. He snapped around to look at her, lips pressed thin. “What are you talking about?” he demanded and now he sounded angry.

“Takeru almost died the other day!” she burst out, and then the words just kept pouring faster, “Because I said to turn around. If I had just kept running, he never would have been touched.”

“You couldn’t have known that was going to happen,” Iori said fiercely, “Motomiya’s actions are his own.”

“What about Yamato-san, then? I looked away for five seconds-” had let herself feel good, like maybe she’d finally done something right “-and then Ichijouji had his hands around his throat. And, and, before that, Taichi had his arm dislocated. He almost got a concussion. That was my plan that blew up, that got him hurt. How many sprains and pulled muscles have you had?”

Her eyes were burning again her throat felt tight. She’d hoped she wasn’t actually going to start crying, though she felt like it; bad enough she was shouting at Iori like she was, she didn’t want him to see her cry.

“Why do you do that?” Iori asked, some of the fierceness leaving his voice for worry, “Why do you only focus on the bad things and forget everything we’ve accomplished?”

_What have we accomplished_? Hikari thought. She managed to bite back the thought before she could say it. Iori, steady as he was, for all the help he’d given her, he didn’t deserve the weight of her doubt, her slowly dawning realization of how little they’d managed. That maybe Daisuke had been right: the Empire had everything and they’d need a miracle to win. The Empire kept growing no matter where she hit and it felt like every time her team landed a serious blow, the Empire hit back three times as hard. For every vulnerable spot Daisuke and Ichijouji had, they also had some hidden weapon just waiting to be used. The newest was Paildramon and she worried what they’d pull out next time, because it kept getting worse and she couldn’t protect her team from any of it.

“I won’t follow anyone else,” Iori said suddenly. She over at him in surprise, found him watching her with calm, steady eyes, like he’d never considered wavering. She wondered how he did that, stayed so sure after fighting for so long and getting so little in result. “You’re team leader and a good one. I’m with you, whatever your orders.”

“Thank you, Iori-kun,” she said, “I appreciate it.”

“I mean it,” he said firmly, like perhaps he didn’t think she believed him. Which was fair, she could admit. She wasn’t wholly sure she did, or at least, that she deserved it. “Whatever happens, we’ll handle it. We always do.”

“Yeah,” she said, not quite as enthusiastic as she would have liked. 

Iori kept watching her, looking like he was struggling for words. Iori sighed after a minute, turning away and draining his tea. He set the cup back down and said, “We both know Digmon’s the best suited for ground fighting. That’s why it should be me. Holsmon won’t manage at all, and Nefertimon and Pegasmon are meant to work together. That’s why it needs to only be me.”

It was true, wasn’t it? Digmon wasn’t actually suited well for aerial combat, but they made due. On the ground, he would be so much more effective. And besides, of all of them, Digmon was the one built like a tank. He had the best chance of surviving by himself.

And she knew they needed him on the ground. She couldn’t actually picture the safe zone staying in tact without a guard right there. But she also couldn’t imagine being able to keep her team in reach of Iori for backup while also defending everyone who needed defending. The choice was, did she risk Iori, her teammate and friend, the one the whole team relied on, not just? Or did she choose, willingly, to abandon the digimon she’d sworn to protect to keep Iori safe?

The choked feeling in her throat increased. She bowed her head to hide her blinking tears out of her eyes. That wasn't- it wasn’t fair. Especially since it wasn’t even a choice. There was only one decision she could make, even though it was tearing her up inside. “If I disagree?” she asked, voice croaking out.

“Then, I’ll listen. But I won’t be happy about it. And afterwards, I’d hope to get an explanation,” Iori said calmly.

She closed her eyes against that calm acceptance, against how easily he seemed to accept the danger he’d be in. 

“I need to head home,” Iori said, standing. “Thank you for the tea.”

Hikari gulped, breathed deep, and looked up. Her eyes still felt too wet. “It’s no problem. I’ll see you out,” she said, as steady as she could manage. Which wasn’t steady at all and Iori’s expression crumbled. She stood before he could say anything and hurried for the door.

Iori paused on the threshold, looking back at her with huge, dark eyes. “Get some sleep, okay?” he asked, “You don’t look good.”

She nodded and closed the door. Then she sank down it until she was sitting on the ground, breathing too fast, tears pooling out now that she didn’t have an audience.

“Hikari?” Plotmon asked, rubbing up against her legs. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” she managed, voice cracking. She turned the conversation over and over in her head again but couldn’t find a way past the truth in Iori’s words. She was going to have to put him on the ground. She was going to have to leave him by himself.

She was going to get them all killed.

“Why was I chosen as team leader?” she asked.

“Because you’re good at it,” Plotmon said and Hikari wished the firmness of her voice did anything to make the word more effective. “You proved that. That first day we were together again, you led us then. You did so well.”

_I let Strabimon die,_ she thought, _I let him just walk to his death, knowing what was going to happen. I pushed Hawkmon too hard when he was already injured, when I had no idea how strong Daisuke and XV-mon were. I was good because everyone else was too stunned to be so._ “What did I even accomplish that day?” she asked quietly. _What have I managed that the others couldn’t, now that they’ve got their feet?_

“Hikari, you got us out of there.”

Hikari slipped a finger around the band of her goggles, pulled until the familiar weight became a line of screaming pain across her neck. Had she really done that much? Done more than run wildly and hope for the best. _Everything I do just creates more problems._

“Hikari,” Plotmon said, all soft concern. Her eyes were huge as she pressed close against Hikari’s side. “What’s wrong?”

_Daisuke’s right_ , she thought, _I’m just a princess._

*****

The base hung in the air, almost unnoticeable against the setting sun. Tension eased out of Daisuke as XV-mon soared into the base’s airspace. They’d been working all day, trapped examining the desert territories; Daisuke hadn’t even had the time to see Ken before he’d flown off to check what mischief the Chosen were up to now. Exhaustion born from hours in a state of battle-readiness had long since set in; he was ready to be home. 

XV-mon glided into the hangar, coasting down to a stop. An argument could be made for XV-mon not having quite landed when Daisuke jumped off his back, but Daisuke didn’t care. He took off his mask and coat; took a few seconds to shake sand from his coat. He wrapped his mask up in his coat, then tucked it under one arm. That down, Daisuke ran a hand through his hair, shaking loose sand.

Behind him, XV-mon dedigivolved. “I’m tired,” V-mon said. His eyelids were drooping. 

“Me too, buddy,” Daisuke said, “Come on. Take a shower, then go find Wormmon, yeah?”

V-mon gave a murmur of agreement and shuffled along in his wake.

There was a small bathroom off the hanger, for when Daisuke came back after a long day feeling absolutely disgusting. Daisuke rushed through the shower, trying to scrub all the sand from his hair, and couldn’t help his relief when he emerged to fresh clothes laid out and waiting. The slaves had already taken away his coat and armor, no doubt to get them cleaned. Daisuke quickly tied up his boots again, watching as V-mon came back clean and halfway asleep. “Come on buddy,” he said softly, extending a hand to his tired partner.

V-mon grabbed at his hand, missing once before Daisuke caught the flailing limb. Daisuke stood and swung V-mon up in one movement, allowing V-mon to loop his arms around Daisuke’s neck and hang from his shoulders. V-mon yawned, right in Daisuke’s ear. Daisuke sighed, though he was mostly amused, and began walking down towards the control room.

He’d have to again rearrange the soldiers around Full Metal City. There was too much activity there, especially considering how few free digimon had set eyes on the city since it was conquered. He didn’t think it was the Chosen again; this was different from how they’d chipped away at the Empire’s control before. This was different from any of the princess’s strategies.

The Chosen wanted to be noticed, because being the Chosen had an effect on the free digimon who saw them. Whoever it was scouting out the city, they were doing their best not to be seen. Daisuke had spent hours chasing slivers of a presence, trying to confirm something was happening and it wasn’t just his mind playing tricks.

But there was someone examining the area, testing at the edges of the territory. Daisuke was not looking forward to another player in this war, to the Digital World finding its feet again. Hopefully, further strengthening the area would scare them off, but it would take a few weeks for everything to move around to his satisfaction.

Wormmon was waiting for them at the elevator, patient as could be. 

“Hey you,” Daisuke greeted, wiggling his fingers at the ‘mon. V-mon gave a sleepy, whobbling edition of a hello from his shoulder.

Wormmon smiled at them, amusement bright and clear in his eyes. “Welcome back. Did it go okay?”

Daisuke sighed and stepped into the elevator, pressed the button for the living area. “Went fine,” he said, leaning one shoulder against the wall.

“You don’t sound fine,” Wormmon said, watching him with those huge blue eyes. 

“Tired,” he said. He smiled at the ‘mon, aimed to reassure. “Just need a nap. Long day.”

Wormmon watched him for another second, long enough that the elevator _dinged_ its arrival. Daisuke walked out and headed for the living area. “I need more people in the north of Full Metal City. Strengthen the walls again. If they want the city back, they’re gonna have to fight for it.”

“I can do that,” Wormmon said, “Why don’t you rest?”

“Sounds lovely.” Daisuke pushed open the door to the living area, held it open for Wormmon to enter before him. Daisuke dropped down on the genkan and began undoing his boots. Once he was able to kick them off, he stretched as far as he could. Muscles all over his body complained as he did so, making him groan deeply. V-mon also gave a sleepy protest at being shifted all over.

Daisuke huffed, patting his partner on the head. “When’s Ken? I need to go over this with him.”

“Noooo,” V-mon whined, “Rest.”

“Ken’s sleeping,” Wormmon said. There was a winkle between his eyes that had Daisuke’s stomach dropping.

“It’s barely dark out,” he said.

“He has another migraine,” Wormmon said. He wilted a little as he said it, making V-mon whine. Daisuke felt nauseous, half out of worry for Ken, but also out of guilt at the distress painted all over Wormmon. Before Wormmon had had V-mon to help him look after Ken, but since Daisuke had started taking V-mon home, Wormmon had had to handle that responsibility all by himself. Which meant he had to handle any of Ken’s attacks on his own, without any support, either physically or emotionally. He didn’t like the thought of Wormmon alone in the wake of one of Ken’s blackouts or injuries, left with only his thoughts for comfort. Even if was just a migraine, Daisuke hated sweet little Wormmon having to handle it alone. “It’s his neck again,” Wormmon added.

“Fucking weed,” Daisuke hissed, some fury leaking through as he thought again about how little time there was. And he had to waste it chasing down some idiot in the desert. Then he sighed, anger draining and taking his energy with it; cold fear crept up in his place. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, well, “It’s getting worse.”

Four years, Ken’s attacks had been rare, once every three or four months. And that had been the small ones, the nosebleeds and migraines. The seizures, the blackouts, the loss of time? That had all been even rarer. These days it was something every other week or so and Ken was just as likely to have a seizure as he was to have a nosebleed.

“The newest report says the same as the old. Degradation rate’s holding steady,” Wormmon said.

“But not getting better,” Daisuke said.

“No.”

Daisuke sighed and ran a tired hand over his face. Well, whatever the reports said, Ken was still laid out with a migraine. Full Metal City could wait. He stood up again. “Vee, you remember what to do when Ken has a migraine?”

“Quiet,” V-mon mumbled, still sleepy. “No touching.”

“That’s right,” he said softly, making his tone warm with approval. V-mon purred lowly in response. Daisuke looked down at Wormmon and tried to smile in reassurance. “Come on, Wormmon. Let’s go check on him.”

Daisuke paused before the bedroom door, V-mon still across his shoulders, Wormmon following on his heels. He took a deep breath and carefully cracked open the door. A thin line of light spilled into the otherwise pitch-black room; despite that the intrusion was a small one, Daisuke could see Ken flinch away from the light. He was currently curled beneath the blankets in a miserable little ball, back to the door. Daisuke let Wormmon slip past him, then entered himself, as quietly as he could, opening the door only as far as necessary. He paused long enough to check nothing was in his way to the bed, then closed the door. It immediately became impossible to see. Every light in the room had been either shut off or blocked out.

Daisuke walked over to the bed, helped Wormmon up and set V-mon down in the corner farthest from Ken. He climbed onto the bed, lifting himself over the two ‘mons, then laid down just next to Ken. He made sure to leave a shiver of space between them; as much as he wanted to press close, bundle Ken against him, and take away his pain, he knew touching Ken right now would just make things worse. Ken got so sensitive to touch when he had a migraine that the slightest thing would hurt. Even now, Ken’s shoulders were drawn tight enough the muscles had to ache.

Daisuke let a slow breath and settled in more. “Okay?” he asked, voice pitched as soft as he could. As much as he knew it would hurt, he needed to know being this close was alright. Sometimes it wasn’t; sometimes it helped.

Ken’s shoulders jerked up to his ears. It took a bit for Ken to respond, during which he slowly relaxed again; not fully, he was still coiled tense, but his shoulders fell back down. Ken nodded, a short, jerky movement. Daisuke didn’t say anything else- he laid there, watching shadows, his only intention being to give Ken company. He could feel Ken slowly, fully relax in the shift of weight on the bed, how Ken shuffled minutely towards him, enough Daisuke could feel the heat from his body. The last of Daisuke’s irritation from the rough day faded for weary joy, the exhausted contentment from at least being able to give this slight comfort, if he couldn’t make it stop hurting.

Time was impossible to track in the dark. He occupied himself with counting Ken’s breathes, judging the level of his pain by how tight he curled up. Despite his own exhaustion, he refused to fall asleep, held it off through sheer willpower. He didn’t want to leave Ken alone with his pain.

It must have taken hours- long enough he was certain it must be past midnight- before Ken’s breathing evened out into sleep and his body loosened into something more natural. Daisuke breathed out slowly, felt it stir the fine hair at Ken’s nape. Hopefully the migraine would be gone by the time Ken woke up. Hopefully this wouldn’t be one of those times the migraine lasted for days, so that by the time it ended Ken was sobbing in relief. Assured by Ken now safely sleeping, he finally allowed himself to drift off.

He slept deep and hard and dreamless, and woke up to Ken shaking him awake. There was light everywhere now, thought it had been fussed with to imitate the softer light of sunrise. It allowed him to see Ken: dressed, hair wet, eyes soft and free of pain. Ken smiled as Daisuke stretched, joints popping audibly. “Sorry to wake you,” Ken said, “But you need to be going home.”

Daisuke smiled briefly in greeting before he registered the words. He sat up hurriedly. “Wait, wait. What time is it?

“Little after six,” Ken said.

Daisuke sighed, dropping back down. He felt a little dizzy from the quick movement and his eyes burned for more sleep. He couldn’t have slept for more than four hours, he guessed, from how weighed down he still felt. Thankfully, he didn’t have soccer today; it would be hell with how tired he still felt. “I didn’t mean to stay the night.” He’d have to hurry home, before someone there woke up and realized he was still gone.

“You’ve got time,” Ken soothed. He reached out, smoothed a hand through Daisuke’s hair. “Thank you for staying.”

Daisuke shifted into the touch, smiling up at him. “You feeling better?”

Ken nodded, his whole body light, expression open and happy. “Much.” His expression softened, went a little sad; Ken pressed his fingertips against the skin under Daisuke’s eyes. “I should have let you sleep more.”

“That bad?” Daisuke asked, mostly joking, except for the part where more sleep sounded like an amazing idea.

Ken made a hum of agreement then pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I wanted to talk to you,” he said, regret clear as his face. “But it could have waited. Should have given you another hour, then sent you home.”

Daisuke waved the concern away. He sat up again and started tugging Ken in until the other boy gave up resisting and let himself be pulled in until he was almost in Daisuke’s lap. “Full Metal City, right?”

Ken’s sigh was confirmation enough. “Annoying ants, aren't they?” he muttered, making Daisuke snicker. “Can’t they just give up already?”

“Don't think it’s Yagami and her crew,” Daisuke said, “Not their style.”

“That’s worse.”

“I’ll handle it,” Daisuke promised.

“Never doubted that.” Ken sighed, dropping his head against Daisuke’s shoulder. “Even if it’s not the Chosen behind this, I doubt they’re not involved. Who would try to take the city without that kind of fire power?”

“It's gonna be a fight,” Daisuke agreed and felt something in him shiver, a mix of trepidation and excitement. The Chosen had never participated in a battle the size Full Metal City was promising to be; it felt like forever since he’d been in one himself. Who knew what was going to happen?

He couldn’t wait.

“Wormmon made the suggested changes. Think it will be enough?”

“I’ll make it work,” Daisuke said. Ken’s worry didn’t fade. “What’s wrong?”

“Just concerned,” ken said. “Those battles are hard enough, but the Chosen will make it much worse.”

Daisuke tugged Ken even closer. Ken let himself be moved about with a rare tolerance for the manhandling, until Daisuke could wrap himself around Ken completely. He rested his chin on Ken’s shoulder. “I’m not afraid of them,” Daisuke said, “They’ve gotten better but I can still kick their asses.”

Ken snorted, lips twitching upwards. Daisuke grinned at the sight. Ken twisted in his hold, pressed another kiss to his cheek. “I have something for you,” Ken said.

Daisuke _ooh_ -ed softly and let Ken go.

There was a box on the dresser, plain black, somewhat large. Ken picked it up and brought it to him; Ken didn’t sit down again, even after Daisuke took the box from him. “I want you to keep this on you,” Ken said. Then he smiled a little and added, “They get better. We get better faster.”

Daisuke tested the weight of the box (fairly light for the size) then shook it a little (the slight but familiar click of metal on metal). Ken rolled his eyes but he looked amused and didn’t protest. Daisuke grinned at him and opened it. There was a long coil of metal squares, each about 2 ½ inches long, paper thin, and with an edge worthy of a knife. They were all connected by a thin but tensile wire and at one end was a handle, wrapped in thick black leather. The overall effect was similar to Ken’s whip, just much sharper.

Daisuke looked back up at Ken, eyebrows raised because whips weren’t really his style; so not his style he couldn’t actually use one. The idea of putting blades on top of his lack of skill was actually terrifying.

“There’s a button on the handle,” Ken said. He was definitely amused by Daisuke’s confusion.

Daisuke lifted the whole thing out and set the box aside. There was a very satisfying click of metal as all the little squares fell, dangling from the wire. The handle fit well in his hands, the leather more than comfortable. He found the button hidden in the groove near the bottom, not something that could be hit by accident. Ken actually stopped him from pressing it, setting his fingers gently on Daisuke’s wrist; Ken’s smile was half-grimace as he nudged Daisuke’s hand off to the left, so it wasn’t pointed at him. Daisuke waited for further input and only when nothing further came did Daisuke press the button.

A slight electric hum filled the air and all the metal pieces snapped into an unbending line. Daisuke sucked in a shocked breath then lit it out as a whistle. 

“What is a knight without a sword?” Ken asked softly.

Daisuke stood so he could better examine it, nevermind that it put him right in Ken’s space. It was a simple sword, without ornament. Whatever force Ken used to bind the parts was effective; he couldn’t even see the seam where the pieces fit together. He gave a few testing little flicks of his wrist, nothing wild, just feeling the weight, how it moved. A stunned, excited grin started to build. The sword just responded so well. “It’s light,” he breathed.

“Of course,” Ken said, in a tone like the suggestion it possibly being otherwise was insulting. “Weight was one of the initial problems behind you carrying a weapon, wasn’t it?”

Daisuke nodded, holding his arm and the sword parallel to the ground. He couldn’t even feel a pull on his muscles, let alone strain. With how he and XV-mon fought, all dives and charges, they needed speed; since they were also always in the air, they needed to be as light as possible or they’d get exhausted quickly. He’d agreed to the necessity of armor, especially with his long history of injury. But even then, he only wore what he thought was absolutely critical, left a lot of vulnerable spots in order to keep the overall weight down. He’d considered carrying a weapon himself several times, but he’d always decided it wasn’t worth the weight increase. He wouldn’t put XV-mon through that kind of strain.

So he’d done without, and it had worked for them so far, despite some close calls. But, oh, he already loved this.

“How long have you been working on this?”

Ken gave a quiet sigh, grimacing slightly. “A while,” he admitted, “I actually gave up at point, but with our recent difficulties, I tried again. Had a bit more success. Getting the metal light enough was tricky, but then, adding onto that the ability to fold like it does. Maintaining the structural stability was a challenge, but it will hold together. It’ll take effort to break, despite its form. Being able to channel the energy was difficult too.”

Daisuke laughed, still a little stunned. He tilted the sword, let it catch the light. The blade glimmered, not quite silver. “It’s synthesized. The metal, isn’t it?” he realized. And then, with recognition, “Huanglong ore.”

“Yes, some trace amounts. To maintain its strength. That was a problem initially. Some steel as well, of course. A few other trace elements. It’s one of a kind.”

Curious, Daisuke hit the button again. The hum stopped and the blade collapsed. Oh, that was nice. He could carry it like Ken did his whip and not have to worry about it catching on anything. With the gloves he wore in battle, cutting himself when he handled it wouldn’t be a problem. He carefully coiled it up again, set it down in the box. 

“I know it’s been a while since we’ve practiced,” Ken said, “But you did learn, once. You were good at it.”

“I still remember,” Daisuke assured. He and Ken didn’t forget easily. He’d have to run through the katas again when he had a moment, but he doubted it would cause much trouble. 

“There’s a battle coming,” Ken said, and his voice was soft with worry. “And if i can’t join you, I can give you this.”

Daisuke grinned, huge and excited. “I love it.”

Ken beamed in response. He was so gorgeous. “I know you’ll be more limited against the Chosen. But the digimon behind this, at Full Metal City. If they separate you from Vee-” Ken’s expression shuttered, went hard and cold and vicious “-you tear them apart.”

It probably said something interesting about Daisuke that he thought angry Ken was just as attractive. He drew Ken in close with hands on his face, kissed him long and slow. “You are so amazing,” he said, making Ken laugh.

“Thank you,” Ken said. He pulled back, tapped Daisuke gently on the nose. “Now, you do have to get home. Get some rest. We don’t know when they’re going to be hit.”

*****

Iori had come to the realization that his team was doomed without him.

It was one thing to be in a team that was only four people strong. Every person had an almost incomprehensible importance simply because there was so few of them; everyone was necessary. It was something else entirely to know his team would have had some sort of meltdown already without him. That he was the one they looked to for strength, for surety. 

Iori forced himself through another kata, trying to banish the thoughts from his head. Practice was usually good at clearing his head, but today, no matter how he attempted to focus, he found his concentration slipping. He shifted his grip on his bokken, grimacing a little at the sting in his palms; sweat stung at his eyes and his breathing was a little fast. Perhaps he’d overdone it a bit.

Still, his heart pounding and muscles warm- he felt good. Especially knowing the kind of battle ahead of him in a few hours, it helped sooth some of his anxiety.

He couldn’t be anxious. The others were going to be nervous enough without him adding to it. 

_Well, maybe I shouldn’t be leading a battle this big._

Iori bit back a snarl, gliding through the next kata too fast. Damn Motomiya for planting those thoughts in her head, for making sure they never faded. 

He wasn’t sure what he could do. For a bit, simple silent support had been enough, being where Hikari could see he agreed with her. Then, at some point, that hadn’t been enough; every time Hikari looked at him, she’d looked guilty. Nothing he did seemed able to convince her that she wasn’t failing the team. Everything had just gotten worse: the exhaustion, the shakiness, her inability to smile, the way she seemed about to cry at the sight of a teammate’s bruise.

At least, then, he thought he’d had some effect on her, some ability to shore her up. Now, ever since Motomiya had hurt Takeru, it was like she didn’t hear him at all. Even pledging his loyalty the other day, it felt like she’d just looked through him.

He’d meant what he said, only he wasn’t sure how he could possibly convince Hikari of that.

Iori returned to his starting position and barely paused before he began the kata again.

“ _I just don’t think I should lead. It doesn’t end well_.”

He swung the booken down with an audible whistle, arms protesting the force of it. Hikari was good at what she did. She had gotten them through so much. He would follow her into hell. He didn’t know how she didn’t see that herself.

No, he did know. And, as with so many things, he laid it right at Motomiya’s feet.

He misplaced a foot and, caught up in his own head, went sprawling. Iori coughed, wind knocked out, heart pounding in his ears. He laid there for several seconds, trying to calm his breathing.

He didn’t know how to get through to her. It had been a long time since he’d felt quite so useless.

His grandfather’s voice called, “And what did that accomplish?”

Iori hadn’t even realized he was there. He sat up and rubbed at his right shoulder; it ached from landing on it. Hopefully he hadn’t actually done anything serious to it just before a battle. Blinking sweat out of his eyes, he looked over at his grandfather. “Well, it hurt,” he answered.

The old man laughed. It helped fill the hollowness in Iori’s chest. His grandfather’s laughter eased off and Iori found himself pinned beneath a familiar piercing gaze. “What has you quite so distracted?”

Iori stood up, grabbed his dropped bokken, and walked over to where his grandfather was sitting. He sat down as well and, after setting the bokken on his knees, began wiping away the sweat along his forehead and neck. He’d have to wash up before heading out today. “It’s,” he paused, let the word hang and blew out a frustrated breath. 

His grandfather hummed. “Something you don’t feel comfortable telling me about?”

Iori hesitated, a squirming feeling spinning about his chest- guilty about talking about Hikari’s weaknesses, guilty also for keeping secrets.

When Iori kept silent, his grandfather didn’t protest. The old man merely patted him gently on the shoulder. “You’re allowed to have secrets, you know.” Iori grimaced uncomfortably, making his grandfather laugh again. “It’s fine, Iori. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

Iori sighed, drooping inward. He wanted to ask for advice, but he couldn’t think of a way to describe how Hikari had been slowly self-destructing; there was no idea to explain how Motomiya had spent months breaking her down without explaining why. His hands curled into fists at the thought, the memory of Motomiya’s smirk.

His grandfather’s hand settled on his fist. “Is there anything I can do?”

Iori breathed out, forced the anger away, and uncurled his fists. As much as he would like to make Motomiya pay for the pain he’d caused, not just to Hikari but to his whole team and to the Digital World, there wasn’t anything he could do. “I’ve got it,” he promised his grandfather.

He was examined head to toe before his grandfather smiled. “Well then, perhaps you should go get cleaned up. Didn’t you have plans today?”

Iori smiled, bowing to his grandfather. “Thank you,” he said before standing up. He had to get ready; Miyako would be dropping by for him soon.

By the time Miyako did arrive, Iori had cleaned up, gotten dressed, and downed two cups of tea. Nerves itched at him a bit, in his bouncing knee and tapping fingers, but it was manageable. Nothing compared to what he could guess the rest of the team would be going through. His calm was for the best, he supposed; someone on the team needed to be calm.

Iori gulped down the last of the tea, ignored the burn down his throat as he did. He thought about all those Child digimon, huddling in the shadows of the tunnels, eying every human with distrust and a horror that had made him sick to see. Thought about how much they were all relying on the Chosen for protection. Ichijouji and Motomiya would kill them all without thought for daring to fight back. 

He couldn’t let that happen.

Whatever it took, he’d keep them safe. He’d stop the Empire.

“Iori, honey,” his mom called, “Miyako-chan’s here.”

“Ah, alright, thank you,” he called back. He took a moment to settle, force away the lingering jitteriness; once he felt calm enough to balance out Miyako’s own anxiety, he cleaned his cup and headed for the door. Miyako was waiting on the step, bouncing on the balls of her feet. She tried to smile when she saw him but it came out strained and false. Iori smiled back, made it even and calm, let none of his own concerns show through.

It seemed to work: Miyako stopped bouncing and some of the strain left the corners of her eyes.

Iori turned back to his mother. “I’ll be back soon,” he promised.

“Be safe.”

“I promise,” Iori assured, pairing it with his best smile.

His mother waved them off. Iori matched steps with Miyako as they headed for the Yagami’s apartment. “Nervous?” Miyako asked. She crossed her arms over her chest, which just made her look smaller and more vulnerable, probably the opposite of what she wanted.

Iori just shrugged in response. 

Miyako laughed a little. The tension all along her shoulders eased off. “Of course not,” she said, mostly amused, “Not your style.”

Iori smiled and kept silent. It wasn’t that he didn’t get nervous, it was just… Miyako could work herself into a panic with as little effort as she did getting herself excited. He’d seen it so many times in all the years he’d known her. And Hikari, Hikari was so much in her own head that anxiety was always a given. Even Takeru got flustered easily under the right circumstances, if left to think too much. 

The team needed him. Hikari was the most obvious, of course; he knew she looked to him first when she needed a reminder that someone had her back, someone who was willing and able to support her when she faltered. However, he wasn’t stupid enough or blind enough to miss that the rest of the team looked to him as well. Not as often, not always as obviously, but he knew they did. All three seemed to take a kind of strength from him, as if his presence provided reassurance. 

He didn’t really get it, but if it was what they needed, he’d give it. He could be their strength. It was no big sacrifice, strangling down a little nervousness sometimes, if it meant supporting his team. He was happy to do it.

They walked in silence the rest of the way to the Yagami’s. Hikari let them in, sallow-cheeked, eyes bloodshot and no higher than the floor. She looked like she might tip over at any minute. She waved but didn’t greet them; after she’d closed the door behind them, she curled into herself, arms over her chest, and didn’t say anything.

Neither he or Miyako said anything about her appearance, how she looked half-dead already. It wasn’t like it was an abrupt change for Hikari. 

Iori felt a little sick as he realized it, that falling apart was now their normal for Hikari. That no one said anything because they’d just gotten used to it.

Takeru was waiting on the couch for them. His smile of welcome looked more like a grimace. “Hi,” Takeru greeted with a tiny wave.

“Nice to see we’re all in the same place of ‘we’re doomed’,” Miyako said. She tried to laugh and it came out sounding strangled.

“We’re not doomed,” Takeru protested. His whole face twisted up into another grimace as he stood and added, “It’s just, gonna be close. Shall we go?”

Hikari nodded, a twitch of movement and headed for the computer.

They passed through the Gates and all the way to the tunnels in silence. Nerves were edging upwards, so the very air around them felt like it was vibrating from the tension. Iori sighed, ducked down against the smooth warmth of Digmon’s armor. The others were too keyed up for him to have much effect. One of them he could calm down, could balance out. He knew knew, however, that he simply didn’t have the loudness of personality to affect the whole team.

It ate at him, not being able to help to the degree he wanted.

Floramon met them at the tunnel entrance again. She scowled at them but otherwise didn’t protest their presence. Instead,she led them down through the tunnels. They were led even further through the tunnels this time; Iori was sure they passed the original meeting place along the way. They didn’t stop until they came to a wide but crowded intersection.

All the digimon there turned to look at their approach. Hikari recoiled visibly at the attention before she straightened, head tilting up in a show of strength. It was a solid show and someone who didn’t know Hikari would probably buy into it. “We’re ready,” she said, voice pitched to echo.

Reactions differed across the whole group. There was no missing those that drew away, expressions ranging from unsurety to distrust to open dislike. Iori had grown used to those reactions and had even expected them. Yet there was also no denying those that lightened, looked at them with relief and hope.

The crowd split open, allowing the Chosen to walk through to where Kokuwamon stood in the middle. The digimon nodded at them as they approached. “As are we,” he said, “Everything else is in place. We need only start the battle. And, you will be happy to know, we will be fighting with about 40 on our side.”

Takeru’s whole body slumped, though thankfully the movement was subtle, something Iori only noticed because they were standing close enough their arms brushed. Iori smiled slightly, pressed in against him slightly. Takeru glanced down, expression equal parts relief and dismay, and returned his smile briefly before he returned his attention to Hikari and Kokuwamon. 40 was so much better than 15. It was nothing next to a hundred.

“That’s good,” Hikari said. There was a pause from her, where she looked turned enough to look back at him. Her lips pressed thin, wobbled a little, before she turned back to Kokuwamon. “Iori-kun has volunteered to help guard those digimon holding a safe zone.”

Iori felt Takeru’s start before the other boy’s head snapped around to look at him. Iori didn’t return the look or the address the confusion he could see all over Miyako, instead held his eyes steadily forward. 

Kokuwamon frowned. “Will you still be able to hold the sky without him?”

“Definitely,” Hikari answered, “Besides, Digmon’s a ground fighter.”

“Then we’d appreciate the help,” Kokuwamon said. Kokuwamon glanced over at him, looked him up and down. Iori held the gaze and refused to look away. Kokuwamon looked away before he could be sure of what impression the digimon had gotten. “If that’s all, we should be going.”

Hikari nodded. “On your word,” she said.

Kokuwamon hummed, looked around at the other digimon. “Where’s the infiltrators?” he asked.

Four digimon separated from the rest of the mass; they were small things, hollow-eyed and jittery. 

Kokuwamon faced them fully and said, “You must get through to the tower. If you can’t, nothing we do will matter. Our lives are in your hands.”

“We understand.”

Kokuwamon nodded. “Well, we know what we’re doing. We know what’s at stake. Let’s get to work.”

*****

The Chosen struck first. They swam dived the two watchtowers closest to the gate; the Imperial forces inside the city had no warning before the team dropped from the sky and destroyed the towers. The two towers melted within seconds beneath the sudden onslaught. An alarm went off inside the city.

The team pulled back immediately. Hikari turned away from the slaves pouring out of the city and looked over at Iori. “Be careful,” she said, less an order than a plea.

“You as well.” Iori smiled as reassuringly as he could and was pleased to see a little of the tension ease from her shoulders. Digmon turned and soared down to the ground.

Imperial slaves weren’t the only ones pouring onto the battlefield. The free digimon seem to melt out of the sand as they came out of the tunnels. Above, the rest of his team continued to take potshots at the enemy digimon, preventing them from organizing effectively. 

They were outnumbered. Iori could see that immediately as the last slaves exited and the gates closed. Even with their additional members, they were vastly outnumbered. Panic bubbled up; Iori swallowed thickly, tried to push it down, and let his attention narrow down to the group of digimon under his protection. 

Digmon rose into the air, providing air cover as his group split apart from the others and dashed for the wall. Battles broke out around them; between their speed, Digmon’s large form blocking any attacks, and other free digimon making themselves a bigger threat, no slave focused on them. They made it all the way to the doors without interruption. Iori and Digmon set up directly in front of his group, so any enemies would have to go through them. The other digimon got to work creating a defensive line just behind them, the healers setting up.

The battle descended to chaos.

Iori couldn’t keep track of what was happening. Individual skirmishes had broken out across the field and it was impossible to determine quickly which digimon belonged to which side or who was winning. The sky was full as well; his team flew in dizzying patterns, fighting off other fliers and firing attacks at any Adult that made itself a big enough target. The fighting was kicking up the sand, making it hard to see, especially with the light from various attacks. And it was so loud; the alarm inside the city was still going, added to by the screaming and shrieks of battle.

It didn’t take long for the first data strands to start appearing, marking the deaths of digimon on both sides. Several members of his group lined up on either side of Digmon and began firing at any enemy digimon that got too far out of alignment. Some attacks were potshots, acting as distractions; others were clean, and the digimon unraveled into data before they hit the ground.

Iori felt a little sick, despite his attempts to throttle it down. He swallowed and tucked himself in closer to Digmon.

Two free digimon broke from the chaos, dragging a third towards them. The third was injured but attempting to hold itself together, Iori realized. Still, it was in desperate need of care and a safe place to receive it. “Digmon,” Iori called and directed his partner’s attention to the injured digimon.

“Got it,” Digmon said immediately and took off again. The other two digimon helped lift the injured one up to Iori with expressions of relief. After flying back to the gates, Iori handed the digimon off into the care of the others, letting them get to work without any interference.

Injured came pouring in after that. However, Iori and Digmon had no further chance to play ferry; when the injured came, so did enemies intent on finishing them off..

It was different, fighting on the ground. They’d done it before a few times, but not enough for Iori to be comfortable with it. It was jarring; they had to block more attacks than Iori was used to, since they simply couldn’t dodge beneath and then fly back up. Digmon was big, certainly the slowest on the team, and without the easy escape, he had no choice but to dig in his feet and take every hit. Half the time Iori felt like his teeth were going to rattle out of his mouth. 

But they held.

They took every hit thrown their way so the injured could hide behind them, until the others in his group could snipe them off.

The sick feeling settled fully in his stomach and didn’t go away. Still, despite all the death his group was causing, his deep want to make them stop, he wasn’t stupid to say anything about it. He knew, just looking around, there was no time to take the Rings off. Attempting to save every digimon would only get everyone killed. A clean shot, even if it was a kill shot, was the only chance they had. He shook with the knowledge, disgusted it was a choice he had to make, but he made it. He’d just pay for it later, when he was safe at home.

There was a scream above them. Iori snapped his attention upwards; it was impossible not to respond to that scream, he’d trained himself for months to do so, no matter how focused he was on the battle. That scream was Takeru and it meant he was falling.

Iori scanned the skies and found Holsmon currently in a steep dive. He followed the angle of the dive and saw Takeru plummeting. He watched, breathless, useless, as Holsmon managed to coast under Takeru, allowing Miyako to grab Takeru’s hand and pull him in.

Iori’s distraction cost him.

He looked back at the ground fighting too late to properly brace against an incoming attack. Iori couldn’t help in his own cry as a Tyranomon slammed into Digmon. The force sent Iori flying back, collapsing in the dirt. Iori groaned, pain thundering across his ribs and back from landing, air knocked out. He looked up, blinking dirt out of his eyes, and saw Tyranomon and Digmon locked together. They were pushing against each other, whole bodies straining with the effort.

“Chosen! Chosen, move!” One of the other digimon shouted at him.

Iori stopped staring long enough to get his feet under him and stumble away from the two digimon. With a great surge, Tyranomon shoved against Digmon and sent him crashing to the ground. “Digmon!” Iori shouted as Tyranomon charged at his downed partner.

Tyrannomon didn’t get very far; Gottsumon and Candmon, both from Iori’s group, slammed into the other digimon as soon as Digmon fell. While Tyranomon and the two struggled, Digmon slowly pushed himself up. Iori ran back to his side. “Are you ok?” he asked.

Digmon nodded and began to gently push him away. “Stay back,” Digmon ordered, “I have this.”

Iori bit his lip but did as asked, stepping back so he was behind the first line of his group’s defenders. It didn’t take long for Tyranomon to be pushed back, and Candmon landed a fatal blow. Iori turned away, closing his eyes briefly. As long as it wasn’t Digmon landing the blow, maybe he could convince himself it was alright.

Being off Digmon’s shoulder and on the ground himself was actually easier. He was able to focus less on the attacking digimon, on bracing against hits, and more on taking care of his allies. As small as he was, it was easy to slip out onto the battlefield to any injured digimon he saw and drag them to safety. It left him sweaty, dirty, and with Digmon yelling at him. He didn’t stop, though, no matter his partner’s protests. He was needed.

Besides, he trusted Digmon to protect him.

Iori set the Penmon he was carrying down, then braced himself against his knees and desperately sucked in breaths. His mouth was dry, like he’d been swallowing sand. He probably had been.

“Oi, Chosen!” 

Iori looked up wearily, blinking away sweat. Kokuwamon watched him carefully, propped against the walls of the city. “You gonna pass out on us?”

Iori sucked in another breath and straightened. The battle continued to scream on around him. “Not yet.”

“Good lad,” Kokuwamon muttered.

Iori smiled, an exhausted little upturn of lips; Digmon, facing away from them and busy watching for attackers, grumbled wordless at them both. Iori returned to pulling in injured. His group healed them as best they could, then sent them out again. It became a smooth cycle over minutes and perhaps the only reason, he suspected, their lesser numbers held on. With the city unwilling to open the gates, the Imperial forces had nowhere to retreat to, so their members got weaker and weaker the longer the battle went on.

“Above!”

Iori flattened himself to the ground at the familiar shout. A digimon flew past above him; he could hear the click of the digimon’s teeth, felt how the ground rocked beneath the attacks. He looked up, watched as the Airdramon spun in the air and headed back for them. However, the rest of his team, which had been fighting off any digimon that attempted to swoop down on him, was currently engaged with two other fliers.

A second later, another shout called, “It’s coming around again!”

Iori could see the flex of it’s wings, the way wind gathered, that he’d come to understand meant an attack. “Scatter!” he ordered.

No one hesitated as they flew through the familiar pattern of dodging. Iori threw himself to his feet, planning to run for Digmon and hide in his shadow, as he always had. He caught sight of a Kamemon, laying prone in the sand, still injured. The healers probably hadn’t had a chance to get to him before the Airdramon attacked. Iori didn’t hesitate before he swung away from Digmon and ran towards Kamemon. 

There would be no use dragging the ‘mon; it would take too much time, they’d never get anywhere. He threw himself on top of Kamemon, using the momentum of the action to push them both in closer to the wall of the city. 

“Iori!” he heard Digmon shout. 

“ _Spinning Needle!_ ”

Wind like knives slashed across the area around him, tearing up sand. Iori curled himself tighter around Kamemon and couldn’t hold in a cry when the attack cut across his right arm. Despite the pain, he didn’t move from his position. 

The wind died out and then there were hands pulling him back. Iori let himself himself be pulled back, wincing as movement jarred his arm. 

“You okay?” Kokuwamon asked, kneeling next to him.

Iori looked around: healers were kneeling next to Kamemon, already getting to work; his team had managed to divert and tackle the Airdramon so it couldn’t take a third shot at them; Digmon was hovering behind Kokuwamon, not bothering to keep his attention on any attackers. “I think so,” he said. He rolled his shoulder, wincing again at the pull of skin and yet relieved. “It’s not deep,” he informed, “Just a surface cut.”

He’d have to scrub it good when he got home so it didn’t get infected, but it would scab over and heal just fine in a day or two. Hardly the worst injury he’d ever had. “I can keep fighting.”

“Iori!” Digmon protested.

“No, I’m not quitting,” he said back immediately, not loud or angry, but with every ounce of conviction he had. Like he’d told Hikari, someone had to fight the Empire. And he wouldn’t stop until he physically couldn’t. He started to push himself back to his feet, ignoring how the cut pulled.

Kokuwamon watched him, eyes dark and examining. “Careful, kid.”

Iori nodded in understanding, ignoring Digmon’s strangled sound of annoyance. Instead he looked back out across the battlefield, intent on going back to his previous job. His close examination was probably the only reason he saw the almost invisible blur of blue, shooting down from the sky.

_Oh no_.

XV-mon plummeted, that familiar controlled dive, and caught a Hagurumon between his claws. XV-mon slammed into the ground, placing Hagurumon beneath him, and the force of the landing killed the little digimon. It happened in seconds and silence. 

For a moment, no one noticed him. Then XV-mon looked up, face split by a grin, and roared. The sound echoed across the battlefield; everyone stilled and turned to face him. The battlefield hushed.

Motomiya, resting relaxed upon XV-mon’s back, looked across at all of them. Iori couldn’t help the shiver that skated down his back. It had been so long since he’d been afraid of Motomiya, had been anything but angry with him. But then again, Motomiya played his games well enough, it had been months since Iori had faced anything but _Motomiya_ \- the boy, the childhood friend whose betrayal haunted the Yagami’s- in battle.

What rested on XV-mon’s back, appearing bored and unconcerned, was the Knight. Under the stark desert sun, Motomiya’s armor shone pitch and the shadows of his hood melted into the gleaming sharp edges of his mask. Iori wasn’t close enough to see his eyes, but he remembered them; the almost gold color, the black edges of the mask making them seem to glow. The arrogant, mocking up twist of his mouth. It all combined to make Motomiya seem almost inhuman. 

Motomiya raised one hand in a cocky wave. “Yo.”

Nothing, for a long moment. Just a stillness, like everyone was waiting.

Then XV-mon’s wings bunched up and he threw himself forward. He lashed out at a Solarmon with his claws while his tail slammed into a Dorumon and sent it flying. The stillness broke and the freed digimon scattered. They went running in any direction that brought them further away from Motomiya and XV-mon. Some didn’t stop running at all.

Iori watched as those digimon fled the battlefield entirely. “Are they running?”

“Yeah, well, they’re the ones who are gonna survive today,” Kokuwamon said. His face was pinched, beyond unhappy, almost a little resigned. 

Most of the free digimon were hopelessly scattered in the face of Motomiya’s arrival and they didn’t seem willing to fix it if it meant getting his attention again. Which meant Motomiya would have free reign to tear through them.

However, before Motomiya and XV-mon could get very far in their rampage, Holsmon swooped down, claws raking through the air inches above Motomiya. XV-mon turned to face the other Chosen and threw himself after them.

“Can they hold him for a while?” Kokuwamon asked.

Iori nodded. “Yes.”

“Then we might still have a chance, if we get inside before the Kaiser’s reinforcements show.”

“We will,” Iori said, with as much strength as he had. And, well, he had a lot.

He turned his attention back to his team, watched as they traded blows back and forth. Something was wrong, he thought; Hikari and Nefertimon were moving all wrong. Slower than he knew they were: half-lethargy, half-hesitation. Iori bit his lip, unable to tear his eyes away.

XV-mon tore through one of Nefertimon’s wings. Nefertimon dropped, one wing flapping uselessly; Iori watched, breathless, as Pegasmon flew down next to Nefertimon. Hikari jumped off, slamming against Pegasmon, Takeru grasping at her arms and shirt as he struggled to pull her up. Nefertimon kept falling, managing an awkward coast to a landing. She limped as she got back to her feet, injured wing curled against her side.

XV-mon dived after her, seemingly intent on taking her out of the fight.

Ten feet from Nefertimon, XV-mon was sent flying off course by a Sparrowmon slamming into his side. XV-mon tumbled away and Motomiya fell the last few feet to the ground. Motomiya rolled across the sand, losing momentum until he could push himself to feet again. There must have been words he couldn’t hear, but he did see Motomiya wave his partner away, careless and unconcerned. XV-mon hesitated, then refocused on the other fliers and Chosen closing in on him.

On the ground, Motomiya seemed utterly unconcerned for his own safety. Still, he paused in the act of brushing away sand when freed digimon surrounded him. Motomiya shrugged, mouth still twisted in that smirk, nevermind that he was outnumbered three-to-one. Motomiya pulled out a coiled chain of metal suddenly and let the coil fall; the metal snapped into one long, unbending line. Iori’s heart stopped at the sight of the sword. _No, don’t_ , he thought.

Motomiya batted Pawn Chessmon’s lance aside, stepped around Gaomon’s attack, and carved through Coronamon. The little fire digimon burst into data immediately. There was a pause, a breath, then Chessmon lunged forward again. Motomiya didn’t bat him aside this time, instead locking his sword with the digimon’s lance.

Gaomon attempted to come at him from behind. Motomiya’s head turned to look at the digimon over his shoulder, then he shoved at Chessmon, forcing him back a step. Motomiya slammed his foot on Chessmon’s knee, causing him to crash to the ground; Motomiya met Gaomon’s charge blade first, killing the digimon instantly.

Behind Motomiya, Chessmon began trying to get to his feet, though his leg kept giving out. Motomiya’s shoulders moved in a sigh; he twirled the sword in an unnecessary, deft little wrist twist, then spun around, sword slashing upwards. The angle was perfect- of course it was, it was Motomiya- and the sword cut Chessmon’s head off with ease.

It all happened fast, in seconds and heartbeats.

Motomiya shrugged, like it was nothing, and the sword collapsed into pieces. Motomiya gathered it all up and tucked it away, then raised one hand. Within seconds, XV-mon swooped down again and grabbed his partner.

The battle fell apart. Many of the freed digimon ran blindly terrified from XV-mon, nevermind that the Chosen were keeping him mostly distracted, that Nefertimon rejoined the fight after a bit of rest. It allowed the many slaves still in the area to pick them off one by one. The whole tide of the battle had shifted with Motomiya’s appearance. Just like that, the Empire had won; it was just a matter of the Knight cleaning up the stranglers.

Iori had known that digimon were afraid of Motomiya, could even understand that fear at times. He hadn’t realized the overwhelming level of that fear, how mindless it was. The way it could make a whole army run away. 

A sudden stillness fell over the battlefield, digimon everywhere stopping what they were doing. A creaking sound came from behind Iori. Iori turned and watched as the main city gates slowly opened.

“The tower must be down,” Digmon said.

“The Kaiser will be here soon,” Kokuwamon said, “We need to move. Now.”

Many of the free digimon turned and began rushing for the open gates of the city. The healers in his group grabbed up the injured and began pulling them into safety. Many of the previously Ringed digimon stood around, expressions confused, terrified. XV-mon flew upwards until he was high and clear of everyone, drawing back while he waited for reinforcements. 

The gates opened slowly, despite the numbers trying to surge through. Many of the Ringed digimon seemed to be realizing what was going on and started tugging off the Rings around their necks, or running for the gates with everyone else. 

Iori stepped forward with Digmon, allowing others to race past him without interference. “Do you have this?” he called to Kokuwamon, “I’m going back to my team.”

“Go. And be careful, kid. The Kaiser won’t be far now.”

“You as well,” Iori called, then jumped up onto Digmon. Digmon took off immediately, flying up to the rest of his team. Holsmon and Pegasmon were flying in slow circles, keeping an eye on XV-mon in case he tried anything. Nefertimon was hovering in place; on her back, Hikari was staring narrow-eyed into the distance.

Digmon flew over to Nefertimon. Hikari glanced over at him, then stilled, eyes going huge. She looked horrified. “You’re bleeding,” she said in a small voice.

He was pretty sure the wound on his arm had actually coagulated already. Still, between the blood and the dirt, he had to look a mess. “I’m fine. The others are retreating into the city,” Iori informed Hikari, “If they can secure the wall before the base arrives, we’ll have won.”

“That’s going to be a problem,” Hikari said and she sounded so tired. She turned, looking back out at the horizon. 

Iori looked out the way Hikari was. A dark shape was clearly visible against the bright sky and growing bigger. “Is that the base?” he asked, even though he already knew it was. It couldn’t be anything else. If he squinted hard enough, he could see the digimon flying in formation around it.

“Yes. The tower there will hit any second.”

Iori looked down at the ground, at the digimon still running about. So many hadn’t even bothered taking off their Rings, caught in the flow of the others as they rushed to the city. Others were just so far from the city. Iori looked back at the base, already so much closer than he’d thought it would be. At that speed, it would be close within seconds. “They have to close the gates now,” Iori realized.

If they waited, tried to get more inside, the Rings would come back online and they’d be overrun by those slaves closest to the gates. With the base coming in so swiftly as backup, with XV-mon ready to drop back into the fight at any second, and with the slaves being able to hold the gates open, the city would fall again in a matter of minutes.

“They’ll lock out half the digimon down there!” Miyako protested immediately.

“But the half inside will survive,” Nefertimon said. Hikari’s eyes closed, her body hunching into itself. “And we’ll have the city.”

“Everyone down there will die! Or, or, be enslaved again!”

“We can protect them,” Iori said, “The ones still Ringed are already lost, but we can protect the others. We can hold off the slaves long enough for them to escape back down into the tunnels.”

“Fight against that many?” Miyako asked, voice rising sharply.

Takeru’s voice was oddly level when he said, “We’ll never get out in time. We’ll be crushed against the walls.”

“If we want to get away ourselves, we’d have to start running now,” Nefertimon said.

“We can’t just leave them!” Iori protested.

“Whatever we’re doing,” Holsmon said, “it’s needs to happen now. Before we lose the chance to do anything.”

“Hikari?” Takeru asked.

Hikari looked over at them, eyes huge and dark. She didn’t say anything, mouth moving wordlessly.

“They’re closing the gates,” Digmon noted, head turned down.

The base was so close, Iori noticed. Surely the tower there had to have taken the Rings by now.

“Hikari, what do we do?” Takeru asked again.

Hikari’s eyes flickered between them all. She drew back a little, expression crumbling. Her hands were shaking where they rested against Nefertimon’s armor. _She’s not going to do anything_ , Iori realized with a sinking sensation. 

“Hikari!” Takeru shouted. When she just kept staring at him, silent, teary-eyed, Takeru gave a wordless shout of frustration. Iori looked around; the base was so close, the tower had definitely hit. The digimon that had flown in with it were charging ahead, some for those on the ground, some for them. “The tunnels!” Takeru shouted when he saw the digimon that were bearing down on them, “We can escape through there!”

“But the others!” Iori shouted.

“Just do it, Iori!”

Pegasmon dropped down, followed swiftly by Holsmon. Digmon took a second longer, sensing his hesitation. Iori looked over at Hikari, still hunched on Nefertimon’s back; her shoulders were shaking, though she’d bowed her head so he couldn’t see her face. Before he could say anything, Nefertimon jolted forward and flew after the others. Iori sighed but didn’t protest when Digmon followed after.

None of the slaves chasing them could catch up in time and the group slipped into one of the tunnel entrances and disappeared into the maze. Iori thought, calculating the various twists and turns, that they’d actually headed towards the city instead of away from it. They were probably still somewhere under the battlefield, near the wall.

They came to a stop abruptly, Takeru jumping off Pegasmon. He was panting heavily but he didn’t rest, instead pacing a few circular feet.

Iori jumped off as well. “We shouldn’t have left them!” he shouted.

“I know!”

“They needed us!”

“ _I know_!” Takeru snapped. Iori shrank back a little, surprised by the sharpness in his voice. Takeru looked past him and his mouth pressed into a thin line, eyes lighting with anger. He stalked forward. 

_Hikari_ , Iori realized, but he couldn’t stop Takeru in time; Takeru brushed past him until he was right in Hikari’s face. “What the _fuck_ was that?” he demanded, not very loud and that somehow made it worse.

Nefertimon stepped between Takeru and Hikari, growling in warning. Hikari shrank back, folding into herself. “I…”

She was crying, Iori thought, even though he couldn’t see her face. It was obvious in her voice, in how her shoulders jerked.

“We needed you!” Takeru snapped. His voice was raw, enough Iori thought there was a little fear beneath the anger. “We could have died!”

“I know,” Hikari said, the quietest whisper, and the cracked sound of her voice made his chest ache. “I know. I’m sorry. I can’t-” she broke off, sucking in a ragged breath that came out in a sob. “Deciding if my team dies, or if I leave everyone else to die… _I can’t_. I can’t, I’m sorry.” She clapped both hands over her eyes, sobbing.

“Hikari-chan,” Miyako said.

An odd sound echoed through the tunnel

“What was that?” Iori asked, looking around. Everyone paused, went silent; even Hikari made a valiant effort to choke back her sobs.

A grinding, stone on stone, followed by muted booms. 

“That,” Digmon said slowly, “Would be the ceiling.”

“We’re still under the city,” Iori said, “We’re still under the battle.”

“It’s destabilizing the tunnels,” Miyako realized in a horrified little voice.

“Run,” Takeru ordered, then again, louder, urgent, “Everyone, run!”

Iori threw himself back onto Digmon; the whole group took off running through the tunnels again. Iori focused on the noise: the muted explosions from the battle above, the way the rock shifted against each other under the pressure, screams just barely audible all the way down here. The explosions were giving way, but the grinding hadn’t stopped.

The tunnel gave way suddenly, rock cascading.

*****

Iori woke to Digmon shaking him. “Iori, are you okay?” his partner asked.

Iori sat up slowly, wincing at the pull of his muscles. “What happened?” he asked.

“The tunnel collapsed,” Digmon said, “You fainted. I don’t think anything hit your head.”

Iori ran one hand through his hair, testing for any bumps or blood. He came up clean and couldn’t help his sigh of relief. Slowly, he pushed himself to his feet. Bruises in some interesting places, but nothing seemed broken or sprained. His arm burned though; the scab had probably come off. “I think I’m alright,” he said.

Digmon sagged with relief. “That’s great.”

“Where are the others?”

“Don’t know,” Digmon said sadly, “Cave in separated us.”

Iori sighed and looked around. The cave in had knocked out some of the lanterns, leaving everything in a muted half-light.The way he’d come from still seemed clear, though pitch dark, so he couldn’t be sure. The other direction was closed off by the cave in. The wall behind him was smooth, the original wall of the tunnel, but the rest was stones and dirt slush from the cave in. They must have been under the city at the time, Iori realized, because there was metal glittering in the mess. Building equipment, it looked like, rebars and supports and steel pillars caught in the mess. From the sounds he’d heard, the battle must have unsettled tunnels all across the battlefield and clear under the city. He hoped the cave ins hadn’t wrecked the city itself. “Is this place safe?” he asked.

“It’s secure,” Digmon said, “I made sure of it. But the cave in extends pretty far and I can’t be as sure of that.”

“We have to find the others,” Iori said. 

“I can do that,” Digmon said, “I’m built for this kind of thing.”

“Digmon.”

“I’ll be fine,” Digmon assured, “But you should stay here. I can handle some rock falling on me if I unsettle something looking for the others, but you can’t. You’ll be safe here.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. I’ll find the others, stabilize the path back to you, and lead them here. Then you all can decide what to do.”

“Alright,” he said, “Be careful.”

“No problem.” 

Iori watched as his partner moved away from him, examining the cave in carefully, then began to drill through it. Within seconds, Digmon was gone from sight, though he could still hear him working. Iori sighed and sat down to wait.

He wondered if Kokuwamon had managed to get back inside the city or if he’d been caught out when the gates closed. Last he’d seen, Kokuwamon had been trying to organize the people rushing through the gates, so he might have had a chance to duck inside as they closed. The healers he’d been with were fine; they were the first to get through with their charges. Everyone else, it was much harder to say. It was likely that a majority of the digimon he’d dragged in for healing hadn’t made it to the city.

He wondered if enough had made it to protect the city.

The sound of steps echoing through the tunnel made him look up. He peered back down the way he’d come, but it was too dark to see anything. He thought, briefly, that it might be one of his teammates, but they had all been ahead of him. And, he realized, the footsteps were too heavy. None of them had that heavy a step.

Motomiya, Iori realized with a chill. Motomiya wore steel-toed boots.

Iori hurried to his feet, ignoring the pull of the wound on his arm. He looked around desperately; he wasn’t stupid, Motomiya could take him hand-to-hand, he was sure of it. And that was if Motomiya’s partner didn’t want to get involved. But still, he wouldn’t just give up.

Iori walked over to the cave in, eyed the mess of dirt and metal. Despite the risk of destabilizing it, he began to tug one of the wooden supports out of the mess. He wasn’t going to face Motomiya empty handed. The support came free. He tested it in his hands, relieved to find it was much thicker than it looked. Awkward to hold, yes, but it was probably as good as he was going to get; it wasn’t like he carried his bokken around in his pocket.

He had thought, once, that Motomiya was trying his best not to kill them, or even hurt them too much. But something had changed over time; Takeru’s injury had shown that. He couldn’t risk being unarmed if Motomiya was in a mood to not be generous.

As dark as his outfit was, Motomiya practically melted out of the shadows. His eyes seemed so much brighter in the dark. Motomiya paused when he was close enough to see Iori, then gave a lazy wave. “Yo.”

Iori didn’t say anything back.

“A mess, isn’t it?” Motomiya asked, as if he hadn’t actually been expecting an answer. He took off his mask and hood, ran one hand through his hair, and shook it. “A mess you’ve all made.”

XV-mon was nowhere in sight, Iori realized with a start. “Where’s your partner?”

“Vee? Well, tunnels are too small for XV-mon, so he had to dedigivolve. We chased after on foot, but, well. There was another cave in about 20 feet back, separated us. He’ll have gone for someone capable of unburying me. I knew I shouldn’t have gone after you guys.”

Motomiya shrugged like it wasn’t a big bother. Of course, with all the power of the Empire trying to get him free, one little cave in was probably nothing. When Motomiya took a step forward, Iori stepped back and swung the wooden support up between them.

Motomiya paused. “Oh, come on, we both know you don’t want to do that.” 

Iori gulped but didn’t answer and didn’t budge. 

An odd smile slid over Motomiya’s face and he said, almost thoughtfully, “You train in kenjutsu, don’t you? I remember. It’s a family thing.” He tossed his mask to the side with a careless motion. “You know what? This could be fun.”

He drew the coil of metal out from under his coat. An odd, low hum filled the air as it snapped into form. Motomiya’s smile warmed considerably. “Ken made it,” he said, all pride and affection. Motomiya glanced over at him and the warm smile twisted into a smirk. “You can keep up, right?”

Iori shifted his stance to what he used for practice, changed his grip as if he was wielding his bokken. Motomiya watched him for another second, eyes patient, examining. Then, grin splitting fierce across his face, Motomiya swung forward.

He was good, Iori thought as they traded blows back and forth. He’d suspected that from what he’d seen on the battlefield, but it was something else to face off with Motomiya himself. Motomiya was strong and fast enough to cover the holes in his technique, would have a clean upper hand against any other member of Iori’s team. However, no amount of speed or strength could completely hide the fact that there _were_ holes in his technique. Of course there were; no doubt he was self-trained or, at best, had had Ichijouji helping him. Anyone self-trained had holes, it was impossible not to. 

And he held the sword awkwardly, like he wasn’t quite familiar with it’s weight yet. He hadn’t had much practice with it then; Iori wondered exactly how new the thing was.

He could take him, Iori realized suddenly. With his bokken or a proper sword, there’d be no doubt. Even with the wooden bar, he could take Motomiya. It would be closer than he’d like, but he could do it.

He thought maybe Motomiya knew that too. He could see it in the other boy’s eyes when Motomiya drew away to examine him again. Yet Motomiya didn’t seem bothered by the knowledge; his grin was as fierce and strong as it had been at the start. Motomiya looked pleased, even excited. Iori couldn’t figure out why.

Motomiya surged forward again; it would take more time than Iori was comfortable with to adjust completely to how fast Motomiya was, but he was adjusting. Iori moved with the blows, watching, and - _there_ \- one of those holes. Iori lashed out, cutting through that hole in Motomiya’s defense. Motomiya slithered away at the last second, expression briefly surprised. Then he laughed. “I’ll remember that,” he said brightly.

Iori grit his teeth and didn’t answer. He expected Motomiya actually would remember the mistake that made that hole and wouldn’t do it again. 

Motomiya engaged again.

“Iori! I found Miyako-chan!”

_Digmon_. Iori glanced over at the hole Digmon had drilled through, fear spiking with the memory of how Motomiya had cut through three Child digimon without much trouble. Iori had the training to keep up; Digmon didn’t and was so big he’d be nothing but a target. “Digmon! No, stay-”

Pain.

Iori blinked, wood falling from his hand. He looked down, brain working slowly as he struggled to understand what he was seeing. Blood, staining through his shirt. He gasped, pressing a shaky hand to his stomach, immediately met by more blood pouring free. The wound gashed from his right hipbone up and across his navel before abruptly tapering off. 

He looked up, numb and slow. Motomiya’s blade dripped blood; his eyes were huge, horrified, like it had been the last thing he’d expected.

His legs gave out. Iori dropped, cold seeping in. 

“Hida?” he heard Motomiya say, as if from very far away.

“Iori? You there?”

The world slipped away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, um, I have a few things to say:
> 
> 1) OMG I'M SO SORRY! This came out way more brutal than I was expecting holy shit. I Regret  
> 2) At 17,000 words this is officially my longest chapter  
> 3) I'm so sorry for the huge ass wait, end of the year is hell  
> 4) The title of the chapter is from Sleeping at Last's "Mars"
> 
> Sofifireanon created art for this chapter specifically. Can be found [here](http://soofireanon.tumblr.com/post/160038648639/iori-you-there-the-world-slipped-away-so-i). Warnings for blood. Yeah, its that scene.


	15. Aftermath

In the unthinking panic that followed the battle for Full Metal City, Iori was brought to the only truly safe place in the Digital World: Gennai’s. Gennai let them in and let them stay and stared at the pack of Chosen with solemn eyes. The house became consumed with a quiet, messy panic, a kind of helpless , shot-through desperation, and Koushiro-

Koushiro couldn’t.

He’d prided himself on his brain, not overmuch, not arrogantly, but he knew where his strengths lie. They lied in learning, remembering, problem solving; piecing together what he knew to fix the problem at hand. Mechanical, because he liked mechanics.

Turns out mechanics didn’t mean much when a friend was dying.

So he left; he got out of that house. He couldn’t handle the others, the way despair made a room seem stuffy. The way it took his friends and hollowed them out, left them shells. Hikari, devastated, numb, who stared when called and didn’t respond; Takeru, guilty, ashen, furious; Miyako, dead-eyed and shaking; Taichi, who looked like he’d been gutted; Iori-

Iori, who actually had been gutted.

Koushiro couldn’t do it. He’d tried; he’d stayed through the surgery that didn’t seem to end, through Jou saying “ _If he survives the night_ ,” like Iori might not, actually, survive the night. He’d even stayed the night, so he knew Iori had made it through the night. He’d stayed the night and tried to figure out how to handle watching his friends quietly fall apart.

( _Koushiro huddled in the dark of Gennai’s kitchen, because there was no one else there, because it was away from the agony of Iori maybe dying._

_Jou entered, barely sparing him a glance as he poured and downed a glass of water. He poured another before collapsing in the chair next to Koushiro._ “ _How bad was it?” Koushiro asked, because damn his Crest, but he needed to know. Even if he didn’t_ want _to know, even if this was one time where having the facts would probably be worse than being in the dark._

_Jou sighed heavily. He dropped his glasses on the counter and scrubbed a hand over his face. He looked exhausted, which was to be expected, Koushiro supposed. Jou had been in surgery for hours. “His heart stopped. Twice,” Jou admitted._

_Koushiro’s stomach felt more like a pit. “But he’ll live, right?”_

_Jou eyed him for a second, then looked around, searching for any of the younger kids. Or perhaps Taichi. Once he knew the room was clear, he raised one hand in a shrug. Koushiro didn’t think he’d ever seen Jou looked quite so defeated. “If he makes it through the night, his chances go up dramatically. He just, has to make it through the night.”_

_Koushiro sighed himself now. “We should have taken him to a hospital,” he said, weak and desperate. “We could have thought up an excuse.”_

_“Koushiro-kun,” Jou said. His expression was a terrible, shattered mess when he continued, “He wouldn’t have made it to a hospital.”_ )

Iori made it through the night, Koushiro reminded himself. But Iori didn’t wake up, and there was nothing Koushiro could do to help. Koushiro really disliked feeling as useless as he did.

The only option, really, was to go be useful. If he couldn’t help Iori, well, there was still a war on. He returned to Full Metal City.

About 150 digimon in total had fought in the battle for Full Metal City. Of the 150, a bare two dozen escaped inside the walls before the city gates closed again, just in time to hold off the Imperial horde descending. The Empire had tested the walls briefly, then pulled back; the survivors were left to bunker down in the city for the long haul.

Of course, two dozen digimon was nothing to a city that had housed a hundred. Much of the city sat empty and silent; walking through Koushiro couldn’t help but think the quiet felt like a taunt. A reminder of everything that had been lost to the war. Most digimon preferred to stay together in the same area rather than be swallowed by the emptiness of the city. Even all gathered together though, there was an eerie quiet. A solemness that weighed in the chest.

Nevertheless, Koushiro thought the city lived up to its reputation. The two layers of walls stood pocked and beaten from the fighting but were still structurally sound and showed no sign of falling. The gates had been completely sealed; they would shatter before they were opened again. All digimon and supplies came in through the few remaining tunnels. There weren’t many tunnels left; the majority had caved in, some even collapsed purposely. The few remaining were heavily guarded. If the Empire wanted to take the city again, they would have to literally break the walls down.

It wasn’t nearly as reassuring as Koushiro thought it should be.

There was, after all, nothing preventing the Empire from doing just that. Sure, the city had been well taken care of under the Empire’s “stewardship”. They’d treated it like an active military base rather than a city and thus kept it in fine working order. However, Koushiro wondered at the chances the Empire would attempt to reclaim it, rather than just level it entirely. It depended, he supposed,on how important the city had been to Imperial plans. On if it was better for the Empire that such a city be taken off the map than left in enemy hands for the time needed to reclaim it.

“Koushiro-han?” Tentomon called.

Koushiro pulled his attention down from the city’s skyline, from the walls that dominated the horizon. “Hm?”

“Shouldn’t we head home?” Tentomon looked worried; Koushiro wanted to help, but there were currently so many things to worry about, he didn’t know where to even begin.

“Ah, yeah,” Koushiro agreed. He sighed, rubbed his eyes. Already his head was spinning, planning out his report. What information wasn’t necessary, what was, how best to organize it. The others would need to know it all to continue the war successfully, and it was his job to make it easy for them to know.

It was all rather clinical, really, and for the first time in a long time, something in him flinched away. It was easier when it was clinical, numbers and locations and not living beings. He hated it suddenly, and felt sick.

It hadn’t always felt like this, he remembered; they’d called it a war because there hadn’t been another word, but it hadn’t always felt like an actual war. There hadn’t been planned battles and spy networks and a running list of allies. It hadn’t felt like that in the beginning or when he’d been an active Chosen. It did now and he hated it.

He felt somehow complicit. He was supposed to be the smart one, but everything had gotten worse so _slowly_ he hadn’t noticed, until they were all the proverbial frog in the boiling pot. He’d helped, or tried to, but he wondered it he hadn’t made things worse. If he hadn’t normalized everything and left the younger kids to handle the consequences.

And the consequences…

Iori was only _fourteen_. Iori was just a kid, a brilliant, terrifyingly earnest, fire-and-steel _child_. Iori-

Iori was _his_ , damn it. 

Koushiro’s throat closed and he had to stop and breath deep. Iori was the Child of Knowledge; his kouhai, his successor. Koushiro hadn’t even realized it had meant that much to him; sure, he liked Iori, who didn’t like Iori, but they hadn’t been that close. They didn’t talk much. He regretted it now, wished he’d done more to help him adapt to being a Chosen. Iori was a good kid; they could learn so much from each other, he was sure.

Koushiro thought he understood Taichi’s hang up on Motomiya a lot better all of a sudden.

“Koushiro-han?” Tentomon called again and this time the concern was definitely for him.

“Sorry,” he said, “I was just thinking. What I should tell the others.”

“Isn’t it good news?” Tentomon asked. Koushiro reached out for his partner and settled his hand on Tentomon’s head. Tentomon’s carapace was smooth and cool, an anchor Koushiro hadn’t realized he needed. “We have the city.”

_And Ichijouji could crush it in seconds_ , Koushiro thought. 

“Yeah,” Koushiro said quietly. It was probably bad form to actually say those thoughts while still inside the city. Winning the city had earned them favor, certainly, but some of the survivors still looked at him like he was some kind of monster. “Let’s head home.”

“Alright.”

They had time to breathe, to recover. Rather Ichijouji was planning to conquer or destroy, doing so would take time. Imperial forces had withdrawn from the area for now; Koushiro thought they might have a few days, maybe even a week.

Koushiro thought it was a little odd, the more he thought about the Empire’s retreat. From how Andromon had described the battle, even after the gates had closed, the Empire had continued to attack for nearly fifteen minutes. They had made a sizable and worrying dent. The gates had begun to crack under the pressure and it had seemed the Empire was poised to sweep over the city again without contest. They had outnumbered the free digimon inside and, with the base’s reinforcements, they’d been fresh. At that point, reclaiming the city immediately should have been easy. Yet the Empire had pulled back. They’d let them have the city when doing so could change the course of the war purely in regards to morale. Even more, so far unsubstantiated reports claimed the Empire had retreated from the whole area, not just the city. They hadn’t been forced out, they’d retreated right when they’d almost won.

Koushiro wondered if those fifteen minutes before the retreat didn’t fill the time up to Iori’s injuries. If Motomiya hadn’t maybe ordered a full retreat after he’d cut Iori down.

Wondered if Motomiya hadn’t also arranged the package of medical supplies left out near a Gate, right there for them to find.

_Guilt?_ Koushiro considered. It was the kind of information he should probably consider carefully, clinically; the kind of information that could truly change the war. He knew that but he couldn’t stop his snarl at the thought. _You’d better feel guilty, you son of a bitch._

Koushiro walked through the city, heading for the tunnel that would lead him back to the Gate. Tentomon followed. Hopefully the Empire would hold off long enough for word to spread that the city had been reclaimed, long enough for more free digimon to arrive, to help rebuild and defend it. Long enough for the Chosen to pick themselves back up again.

Yeah, Koushiro thought, and remembered again Hikari covered in all that _blood_. That last one was going to take a while.

“Chosen! Oi, oi, Chosen!”

Koushiro paused at the shout and looked around. A Kokuwamon was limping after him, expression set in grim resolve. He wasn’t the only one; a small pack of digimon followed behind, all injured in some way, all solemn and grim. Tentomon fluttered nervously before flying in front of him. Before he’d left for the city, Takeru had made sure he knew which digimon didn’t like humans. Kokuwamon had been tentatively on the list and now there was a virtual mob behind him. “Hello,” Koushiro greete, trying to keep the caution out of his voice.

“Is it true?” Kokuwamon demanded once he was in front of Koushiro. The other digimon stopped some distance away, huddled together and watching him shiftily. Kokuwamon’s eyes were determined, steely; Koushiro almost missed the desperation hiding within them. “The rumors? Is it true? Is the boy dead? Did the Knight kill him?”

Koushiro blanched before he could stop himself. It was impossible not to flinch, it had been so soon. The memory was still fresh: Iori unresponsive, even to the pain of being moved; chalk white, barely breathing; all of his brilliance, his fire and steel, drained away to a husk. The way Jou’s panic and fear had faded into a kind of resigned hopelessness as soon as he saw Iori.

Koushiro took a deep breath and purposely reminded himself: Jou had worked through the night, with no protests about the origins of the supplies he was given. Jou, sensible, eternally reliable Jou, had pulled off what Koushiro had begun to consider a miracle and stabilized Iori. Had promised that if Iori just made it through the night he would be okay. And Iori had made it through the night.

“He’s alive,” Koushiro said, voice cracking with his relief. Nevermind that Iori still didn’t _look_ it, that Jou continued to watch over him with a grimness that wasn’t at all reassuring. Iori was _alive_. “It was close. And, it’s gonna take a while for him to recover. But he’s alive.”

There was a moment’s pause. The digimon behind Kokuwamon broke into quiet whispers. Koushiro couldn’t make out the words but the tone sounded good, non-aggressive. Certainly some of the tension had lifted. In front, Kokuwamon closed his eyes with an expression of such intense relief it looked painful. Koushiro understood that feeling more than he wanted to admit.

“Oh, that’s good,” Kokuwamon said, sounding suddenly exhausted. “He’s a good lad. That’s good.”

Without another word, one of the other digimon came forward to support Kokuwamon and they walked away. Koushiro watched them leave and realized, with a kind of stunned pride he probably didn’t have a right to, that all those digimon had come to hear about Iori. Cared about Iori specifically, as more than just a hurt Chosen but as a good person. Iori had managed that.

*****

It was rather remarkable, Hikari thought, how she felt nothing at all.

She stood in front of the door to the Hida’s apartment, numb to her core. Plotmon pressed against her ankles, soft and warm, worried sounds echoing in her throat. Hikari ignored her, one hand curling into a fist repeatedly as she worked herself up to knocking. Her thoughts spun in discordant, broken circles as she tried to plan what to say.

_I’m sorry for- Iori-kun’s the best- for not protecting him- I did what I could- the best of us- for not being better- I did my best._

_He’ll live, he’ll live, he’ll live._

“Someone else can do this. It doesn’t have to be you.” Plotmon said, quiet so no one else could hear her.

“Yes, it does,” Hikari said. She knew her voice sounded wrong, utterly empty, that it had scared the others before she left. Hikari didn’t care. Her only concern was: she needed to do this. She might have fucked up in every way imaginable, but she was still team leader. If she couldn’t keep Iori safe, she could still do right by him.

She knocked.

Mrs Hida answered the door by swinging it wide and smiling hugely. That smile faltered as soon as Mrs Hida saw her. “Oh, Hikari-chan,” she said awkwardly. She tried to rally, but her smile was still shaky. “It’s good to see you. I’m sorry but Iori isn’t home yet.” Concern pinched the edges of her smile, making her whole expression seem sad. Plotmon whined in response.

“I know,” Hikari said.

Mrs Hida's brow furrowed as she looked Hikari over. Concern built bright and strong in her eyes, smile slipping away the longer she took Hikari in. Hikari could see the exact moment she remembered that it had been the Yagami’s Iori had “stayed the night” with. Because that was what Hikari’s mom had called and said, covering for them again while they tried to discover if they could even hide what had happened. They couldn’t, not like they had with Daisuke. Iori’s family weren’t as seemingly numb to what happened to their son as the Motomiya’s had.

Mrs Hida’s eyes went huge. “Is he okay?”

“Can I come in?” Hikari asked. It probably wasn’t the best response, but it was so hard to think.

“Oh god, what’s happened?” Mrs Hida’s voice peaked sharply on the words.

Hikari pressed her lips together, breathed out heavily through her nose. She stepped forward and Mrs Hida matched the movement by backing up; it provided enough room for Hikari to walk into the apartment without issue. She could hear Plotmon hesitating behind her, before her partner followed her inside.

“Is Iori okay?” Mrs Hida asked. Her hands were pressed against her chest, her eyes still huge.

“Yes,” Hikari said and it was a testament to how disconnected she felt that the words didn’t sound like a lie at all.

_He’s alive, he’s alive, he’s alive, he’ll_ live.

Mrs Hida slumped in relief. It was only for a second, then Mrs Hida looked back up at her. Her eyes were wary as they looked Hikari over. So much like Iori, actually, and Hikari’s chest hurt. “But something has happened,” Mrs Hida said, not a question at all.

There was a mirror in the entrance way, just above Mrs hida’s shoulder; Hikari’s reflection looked more ghost than girl: colorless except for bruises. And her eyes, blank, seemingly dead. It was no wonder Mrs Hida was suspicious. “Yes. We should sit down. This could take a while.” 

“Of course,” Mrs Hida said blandly and began walking further into the apartment. Hikari followed, aware that Mrs Hida was still watching her cautiously. Plotmon matched her, staying close and trying to be reassuring. They were led to the dining room, where Iori’s grandfather sat. He looked the three of them over and whatever he saw had his expression shuttering completely. Eyes like steel focused on her and didn’t leave.

Hikari bowed to him briefly. She rose only to be met with a wave of dizziness intense enough that she all but collapsed into a chair, rougher and clumsier than she’d meant to. Thankfully, it was either missed or ignored as Mrs Hida approached her father-in-law. She watched as the two shared a few quick, quiet words; Iori’s grandfather’s face collapsed into pain and fear. When they finished talking, they both looked at her the way Iori sometimes looked at Daisuke. Like they thought she had the potential to be a threat and weren’t sure if now was the time she’d decide to actually be one. “What’s happened to my son?” Mrs Hida demanded.

Every word she’d planned, disjointed and broken as they had been, dried up on her tongue. Her mind blanked. She stared across the table at the Hida’s, trying to unstick her tongue, force her brain to produce a single thought. Which made her panic, which just made finding the words she needed that much harder. She had to do this; she owed it to Iori to make sure his family didn’t worry. That they understood what had happened and didn’t suffer not knowing his fate for all the time it would take him to recover. But she couldn’t find the words. Grandpa hida frowned at her with growing suspicion and concern.

Plotmon pressed against her leg, dragging her attention downwards, and looked up at her with wide, concerned eyes. Hikari took a deep breath, forced her mouth to work, and said, “This is Plotmon.”

It wasn’t planned but Plotmon immediately leapt up into her lap, then up onto the table. She sat down and bowed her head politely. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said.

Mrs Hida’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “What ?” 

Grandpa Hida mirrored her surprise before shifting into consideration.

Hikari told them everything.

Despite that it had been her plan, it wasn’t easy. The more she talked, the harder it became to piece together coherent thoughts, to organize her explanation in a way that could be understood. Plotmon took up explaining whenever her stumbling drifted into a pause too long. Together they managed to explain the Digital World, the Chosen, the Empire and the war.

By the time they drew to a close, Mrs Hida looked nothing short of horrified. Hikari focused on some middle point over the woman’s shoulder; she didn’t think she’d manage to get the words out if she was looking at her face. “We were separated. I- there shouldn’t have been- I didn’t think anyone was down there with us. There was a cave-in. And Iori-kun, he and Daisuke-kun fought and Iori-kun-” _was gutted? Cut practically in half? Almost murdered?_ “-was hurt. Stabbed.”

Mrs Hida’s gasp turned into a sob half-way through.

“He’s alright now,” Hikari said, “We got him help. All of his injuries have been handled as well as we can. He just needs rest.”

“Where is he?” Grandpa Hida demanded.

“The Digital World. He’s with a friend.”

“Not a hospital?”

“It’s- we panicked. We didn’t think. Gennai’s was close.”

Mrs Hida hadn’t lost that look of horror, only now her eyes were swimming with tears. Grandpa Hida watched Hikari with an expression she couldn’t decipher. Hikari stood, despite the dizziness that sprung up, the lightness in her limbs from too little sleep, the weight of all that attention. She did it, because she was still team leader and she owed it done. She stood, then she slid to both knees and bowed as deep as she could. “I’m sorry. Iori-kun was my responsibility and I failed him. I am- I’m _so sorry_.” Her voice cracked but that was okay. She was past the point of a silly thing like pride.

There was nothing for several seconds but Plotmon’s quiet whines from atop the table. Then footsteps on the ground and two gentle hands on her shoulders slowly pulled her to her feet, supporting her when she wavered. Iori’s grandfather watched her, eyes dark and sad as he helped hold her up. Wrinkled fingertips pressed gently to the bruises under her eyes; the sadness deepened, darkened, and something in Hikari’s chest broke under all that compassion. 

“There you go,” he said, warmth wrapped around steel and Iori’s eyes. Hikari thought she would cry is she currently could. With Iori, there was something undeniably _good_ in him, at his core; something, apparently, as inherited as his eyes.

Mrs Hida stood. Her hands shook but her voice didn’t when she said, when she _ordered_ , “Take us to him.”

“Yes,” Hikari agreed immediately, because that had been the plan. That was what she owed Iori. “I’ll need a computer.”

She took them to the Digital World. To the closest Gate to Gennai’s, then to the hidden house itself. They followed silently, without complaint, like they could tell how dangerous the world was just by being in it. There weren’t any towers in range, but one was just barely visible several kilometers off from the Gate; a blur of black, ignorable except for how it did not belong at all. Iori’s grandfather stopped to stare at it wordlessly for a minute, then continued on.

Jou was waiting for them, sitting on the porch steps. He looked up at their approach and there was no ignoring the exhaustion on his face. He pushed himself to his feet slowly, like it hurt to do so, and bowed. “I’m Kido Jou, I’ve been taking care of Iori-kun.”

“Are you a doctor?” Mrs Hida asked, looking him over critically. Between the exhaustion and the stress, Jou certainly seemed to have aged a few years, but his youth was still evident. 

“Just about,” Jou said, a tired little smile attempting to twist up. He turned and motioned them to follow him. “Please, this way.”

They followed him to the room Iori was resting in, Hikari lagging behind. Iori laid, still asleep, under a thin blanket on a futon. It wasn’t a peaceful sleep; he was breathing sharp and shallow, face flushed, and sweating heavily. His right arm was wrapped in bandages, but the blanket hid his other injuries. A cloth was folded across his forehead. Something in Hikari’s chest shivered as she stared at him and she had to take a second to focus on just breathing.

Mrs Hida gave a muted cry and hurried to her son’s side. Grandpa Hida was right behind her. They kneeled down next to him, attention wholly on Iori, which was probably why they missed the blanket wiggling. They did not miss Upamon unburying himself and appearing next to Iori. Upamon froze when he looked up at the Hida’s. Mrs Hida stared down at Upamon with growing recognition. “Oh, it's you,” she breathed.

Upamon sunk into the blankets. He didn’t look good: watery-eyed and sunken, with none of the usual energy of most Baby digimon. “Hi,” he said in a miserable little voice that made Mrs Hida’s expression go soft and sympathetic. 

“I’ve seen you before,” Mrs Hida said.

Upamon nodded but didn’t meet her eyes. “I- I pretended to be a stuffed animal.”

“Iori’s… partner,” Grandpa Hida said, “I believe was the term.”

Upamon nodded, whole body trembling. Grandpa Hida reached forward and gently patted him on the head.

Jou moved to sit down on Iori’s other side once he saw them settled.. “It looks bad,” Jou admitted, “But he’s healing well and I expect a full recovery.”

Mrs Hida picked up the folded cloth and placed her free hand on Iori’s forehead. “He’s burning up.”

“The wound on his arm was infected, but I managed to treat it before it became threatening. Now I’m just waiting for the fever to break,” Jou explained. He took a deep breath, shoulders drooping, and began to explain in detail Iori’s injuries.

Hikari leaned against the doorframe and listened as Jou listed Iori’s injuries. She didn’t need to; she already knew them. Jou had outlined it for her already, after the hours he’d spent stitching Iori together. 

Jou was trying to be kind while he explained it, his voice pitched soft and gentle. He was trying to explain it clearly without letting on just how serious the situation had been, how unsure Iori’s survival had been yesterday. He’d done the same with her and her team. 

Still, no amount of softening could remove the reality that Iori had been gutted by an actual sword. Mrs Hida had one hand pressed to her chest, the other stroking slowly through Iori’s hair; her expression was a mask of horror. Grandpa Hida looked like he was in physical pain. Both were crying.

“He’ll get better?” Mrs Hida asked, voice a tiny, wavering thing.

“Yes, definitely,” Jou said immediately, “The recovery may be long, but he will recover.”

The sound Mrs Hida made was half-sigh of relief and half-choked sob. She bent in half, gasping for breath, tears coming faster. Hikari’s chest tightened, twisted in pained sympathy.

Grandpa Hida wrapped one arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. Upamon made a low, whining sound, shuffling anxiously around on the blanket as he stared up at the two. “Can we stay?” Grandpa Hida asked.

“Of course,” Jou said, “I’ll leave you be for now.”

Jou stood and walked out, gently patting Hikari on the shoulder as he passed. Hikari hesitated, watching them for a moment longer. Mrs Hida was still stroking through Iori’s hair, not bothering to stemi her tears. Upamon stared for a bit, before slowly shuffling forward until he was pressing up into her lap. Mrs Hida dropped her free hand onto Upamon’s head, hunching further down.

Hikari turned away and let them be. Something in her chest had shaken loose from the numbness.

She meant to leave Gennai’s entirely, to go home and hide until she could slide comfortably back into feeling nothing. Jou stopped her, stepping in front of her. Worry and stress creased his face, weighed down his whole body. “How are you doing?” he asked. He sounded as exhausted as he looked and Hikari ached in sympathy.

“I’m fine,” she said.

Jou frowned at her, the worry deepening. Hikari could admit that her tone hadn’t been her most reassuring. Or even anywhere close to it. “You’re sure?”

“She’s been really dizzy lately,” Tailmon said for her, the traitor.

Gentle hands cupped her cheeks, tilting her head up. Jou’s eyes were still sharp beneath the exhaustion as they looked her over. “When was the last time you slept?” Jou asked.

It was currently Sunday. She’d stayed up all night Saturday while Jou saved Iori, and all night Friday fretting about the upcoming battle. Thursday night then, and not that well. She knew better than to admit any of that.

Her silence didn’t seem to do her much better though. The weight along Jou’s shoulders seemed to increase and the sadness in his expression made Hikari want to wilt. “Get some rest, Hikari-kun,” he said, too gentle to be an order.

Hikari nodded, silent.

Jou stared for a moment longer before sighing. He wrapped her up in a hug; it was loose, one she could easily pull away from if she wanted. She didn’t pulled away and she didn’t return it, simply stood in the circle of his arms. She closed her eyes though, and leaned her head forward to rest on his shoulder. She drew in a long breath, one that shook, and felt like crying at the feel of a hand running gently over her hair.

After a minute, Jou pulled back; Hikari couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes, didn’t think she’d be able to handle that look again. “Take care of yourself, okay?” Jou asked.

She nodded.

“I’ll take care of Iori-kun,” Jou promised, “You should head home.”

Hikari nodded again and left without a word. She didn’t think anything calm or even sensible would come out if she tried to speak. Tailmon followed her silently back to the Gate, watching over her as she reset the Gate for her apartment then tumbled through.

No one was home when she came through. It was just her and Plotmon. Perhaps for the best; she wasn’t sure she could handle the way her parents had been watching her lately, confusion and concern bundled together until they treated her like she was going to break. It just made the potential for her actually doing so that much higher.

And Taichi, she couldn’t look at Taichi. She hadn’t been able to since they’d told the others it had been Daisuke that had almost killed Iori. She couldn’t.

She couldn’t look at him and she couldn’t look at her parents and she could barely handle looking at Iori.

“Hikari?” Plotmon asked quietly, “You’re shaking.”

She was. When had that happened? “It’s nothing,” she whispered and couldn’t make her voice any louder. She’d collapsed on the couch. She should get up. She should- there had to be something she should be doing. She should check in with the others. Miyako, Miyako had been a mess last time she’d seen the other girl; she should make sure she was okay. And Takeru-

_(“What the_ fuck _was that?”)_

No, she couldn’t see Takeru. She couldn't’, after she’d failed so completely, after she’d let her best friend down so badly. After her failure had almost led to Iori’s death.

It hit her like a battering ram. Iori had almost died. Whatever vestiges of numbness or shock or even sheer exhaustion that had been protecting her shattered. Left a hole like a fist in her chest that she had to try to breathe around. 

_Iori had almost died._

Hikari’s breath caught then punched out in a sob. She tried to breathe and found she couldn’t. It choked, caught on the growing knot in her throat. She gasped out and tears started to burn at her eyes. _Oh god_ , _Iori_.

“Hikari? Hikari!”

If she’d just- If she hadn’t _frozen_ , if she’d gotten herself together, she could have gotten them out of there. She could have kept him safe.

She couldn’t stop shaking. Each breath wracked out in a gasp that felt like it scrapped her lungs raw. Plotmon pressed up against her side and just kept repeating her name, trying to be comforting. Hikari barely felt it.

Iori had almost died and it was her fault. If she’d just retreated as soon as she saw the base, they never would have had to use the tunnels. They could have been gone before the reinforcements got there. Daisuke and Iori never would have fought. If she’d _just_ -

She hadn’t. She’d fucked up.

_She kept fucking up_.

She’d almost gotten Iori killed. She was going to get them all killed.

Hikari reached up, habit making grabbing her goggles easy despite the tears blinding her. She yanked them off roughly and threw them away as hard as she could. Something shattered, but she couldn’t be given to look. She collapsed onto her side and curled up into a tight ball, sobbing thickly.

Plotmon whined, sharp and loud, and tried to press into the circle of her body. Hikari pulled her partner to her, buried her face in Plotmon’s fur, and cried herself sick.

*****

Taichi knocked on the door to Sora’s apartment then stuffed his hands in his pockets. It only took a few seconds before Sora opened the door. She didn’t look surprised to see him. Taichi couldn’t help his wince when Sora’s eyes softened, turned dark and sad as she looked him over. He knew he didn’t look his greatest.

“Oh, Taichi,” she sighed, soft and achingly gentle. His chest twisted beneath the attention. Taichi was caught between wanting her to stop and to never stop at all.

“Hey,” he greeted back.

She reached up and settled a hand on his cheek, stroking gently with her thumb. The skin there felt raw and probably still showed evidence from his crying. “Come on,” she said, too gentle to be an order. Not like he was gonna disobey anyways. She moved her hand to his arm and led him into the apartment.

Taichi let himself be tugged inside. He got as far as the genkan, nudging his shoes off sluggishly. Then he stopped, letting out a heavy breath. Moving further felt like it was going to take so much energy.

“Taichi?” Sora asked and her hand was back on his arm.

Taichi turned into the touch, leaning down so he could wrap himself around Sora. Taichi clung to her, buried his face in her shoulder. She made a surprised sound but didn’t protest, instead returning the hug. “Hey, it's okay,” she whispered, pressed the words into his hair.

Taichi didn’t disagree out loud, but the wish to lingered. It wasn’t okay; Iori had almost died. Daisuke had almost-

He drew back when his throat started feeling too tight. Sora let him go, though she seemed reluctant. She kept one hand on his arm and used it to maneuver him towards the living room.

In the living room, tea had been already set out and waiting. Yamato was sitting on the couch, unoccupied, patient. He had the same look as Sora, sad and expectant. Taichi wasn’t even surprised he was there. “Waiting for me?” he asked.

“Yes,” Yamato said, no deflection, no hesitation, no embarrassment.

Taichi snorted with irritation he didn’t feel. Some small warmth settled in the pit of his stomach instead. “Guess I’m getting predictable.”

“Most idiots are,” Yamato agreed without any bite.

“Stop,” Sora said. Her hand was still on his arm, gentle and warm. When neither boy continued, she pulled him over to the couch.

Taichi collapsed next to Yamato, sinking down as if under a great weight. Sora sat down next to him. Taichi didn’t hesitate before slumping over against her, resting his head on her shoulders. Her fingers settled against the back of his neck, stroking gently through the short hairs there. He could feel the heat of Yamato’s thigh against his.

He let out a quiet sigh. For a long moment, no one said anything. He could close his eyes and focus on the presence of his friends next to him. 

“I’m sorry,” Sora said finally.

Taichi opened his eyes again. There was no point in pretending he didn’t know what she was talking about. He doubted any of them were thinking of anything but Iori. “It’s not your fault,” he said, and wished his tone was anything but as defeated as it was.

“Maybe not,” Sora agreed, “But someone should say it to you.”

“He wasn’t… I’m never getting him back, am I?” Taichi asked. He didn’t think he needed to specify that he was talking about Daisuke.

Yamato sighed. He could feel the other boy shifting about, then Yamato gently squeezing his knee. “There’s nothing you could have done,” Yamato said, “He made his choice.”

“He almost… he always seemed so, resistant to really, seriously hurting us. I never thought… I didn’t think.”

“You wanted to trust him, Taichi, there’s nothing wrong with that,” Sora said.

“Yeah, he just almost killed someone.”

“Taichi, don’t do this to yourself,” Yamato ordered.

“I…”

“No,” Yamato said immediately. Taichi smiled, just a little, without any real feeling behind it. 

“It’s alright,” Sora said gently. Her hand was still on his neck. “Everything will be alright. Jou-san is taking care of Iori-kun.”

“I know,” Taichi said and wished he could make his heart believe it. After a second, he brought himself to confess, “I thought I knew him. I really did. And I keep… trying to hold onto this, little kid that Daisuke used to be. I… he used to be so sweet. He was practically family. I- I _loved_ him.”

“Taichi,” Sora said, soft and sympathetic. He wanted to recoil from it, because for however soft she sounded, it felt like a chisel in his chest, slowly prying away at his defenses. But it was Sora and Yamato, and he could be weak around them if he wanted to be, and he was so tired. His heart hurt. He let himself sink further into them.

“I kept making excuses for, what he was doing. I, I did everything I could think of to make it not his fault. I wanted _so badly_ for it to be Ichijouji’s fault.” He went quiet for a moment, then asked, in a small voice, “It wasn’t though, was it? It was always just Daisuke.”

“I’m sorry,” Sora said again. Yamato’s hand tightened on his knee.

“That little boy, he, he’s gone, isn’t he?” Taichi asked. His eyes burned; it was getting hard to breathe.

Yamato’s hand left his knee, then his weight and warmth left the couch. It was only for a second, then Yamato appeared in his line of sight, kneeling in front of him, and braced against his legs. “Listen to me,” Yamato said, in a voice that wasn’t easy to ignore. His eyes were steady on Taichi and Taichi didn’t want to look away. “It’s not your fault. He made his choice, and it’s _not your fault_. There’s nothing you could have done.”

“I wanted to save him,” Taichi admitted.

“I know,” Yamato said.

“But he can’t be, can he?”

“I don’t think he wants to be,” Yamato said.

Taichi closed his eyes, forced himself to take a deep breath, and said what he’d so far been unwilling to even think. “There’s nothing in him left I can save.” His voice sounded wrecked but the words themselves were somehow steady. “I have to give up on him.”

Pain flashed through Yamato’s eyes. Taichi didn’t understand why at first, because he could have sworn this was what Yamato wanted. For him to let Daisuke go, to stop giving Daisuke such power over him. Then Sora shifted under him and her hand pressed against his cheek. She made a soft sound of sympathy and Taichi realized abruptly that he’d started crying.

“I…”

“It’ll get better,” Yamato said.

“We’re here,” Sora agreed.

He’d be lost without them. Taichi hunched down, not bothering to even try to restrain the tears. “I want him back,” he whispered, voice thin, like the words were being squeezed out of him. “I want that sweet little boy back.”

Yamato leaned up, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. It trapped Taichi between him and Sora, kept him pinned between the warmth of their bodies. Taichi reached out blindly until he could grasp at somebody, maybe both of them, with both hands, hiccuping around sobs that rattled his chest. 

“I know, I’m sorry,” Sora muttered, pressing the words into his hair.

“We’ve got you,” Yamato said, voice right against his ear.

Taichi clutched them both to him, lost and drowning and hollowed out. Neither let go.

*****

Monday came eventually. 

Takeru got ready for school on autopilot. He felt strange, listless, drifting, though his thoughts spun constantly. Which was better, he supposed, than the times where he wasn’t listless but buzzing, coming out his skin, needing an outlet. Better listless than ready to explode. 

He finished dressing with his thoughts a thousand miles away: Iori, wondering how he was doing, if he’d woken up yet, if the fever had gotten better; Yamato, who’d been with Taichi and Sora all day, who’d taken Taichi home last night and then stayed with him, who’d said both Yagami’s were a mess; Hikari.

Guilt stabbed through him when he thought about Hikari. He’d made her cry. He’d known she was fragile, that she was stressed and approaching her limit, and he’d still yelled. He’d been afraid and he’d let that control him and he’d made her cry.

_I’ll apologize_ , Takeru thought, grabbing his backpack. _Once I see her, I’ll apologize, I’ll make sure she’s okay._

He left his apartment and trudged over to the Inoue’s. He waited there for Miyako.

He wondered if the Hida’s had returned home last night, if he should stop by and check on them. No doubt they were feeling, well, Takeru didn’t think he had words for what they were going through. If he could help a little, he thought Iori would appreciate it.

Then Miyako walked out and Takeru put the thoughts aside for the much more immediate concern. Miyako looked dead. Or, well, that wasn’t wholly accurate; Miyako was perfectly put together, from the fall of her uniform to the lines of her makeup. If she had spent the night crying or sleepless, like Takeru had, it was impossible to tell. In fact, if one only took a glance at her, they’d probably assume there was nothing wrong. It was just the biggest thing that was absolutely wrong. Miyako’s normally emotive face was absolutely blank and her eyes were lifeless.

“Hey,” he greeted cautiously, worry making the word trip out awkwardly.

Miyako passed him by with only a glance to show she saw him at all.

Takeru sighed, could feel his shoulders dropping, and followed after her. They walked together to school, silent in a way that was absolutely unnerving coming from Miyako. Takeru turned his gaze skywards and watched the clouds pass.

But it wasn’t a sufficient distraction from Miyako’s silence prickling at him. “Have you heard from Hikari?” he asked, glancing over at her.

“No,” Miyako said blandly, voice as empty as her eyes.

Takeru winced a little and turned away. “She went to the Hida’s yesterday, but I haven’t heard from her since then.”

Miyako shrugged with nothing but a hum of acknowledgment. Except Takeru could see her hands and he watched them tighten white-knuckled around her bag. 

Takeru pressed his lips together. “Think she’s okay?” he asked. After everything that had happened, the last thing Hikari needed was going to the Hida’s, to have to handle the responsibility of telling them the truth. If they reacted badly- Hikari was already in a bad place, he knew she took every injury so seriously, like she had been the one to cause it. If they blamed her, on top of the guilt she already had, the damage would be devastating. She should have been the last one to handle it. But there had been no dissuading her. She’s been firm about going and, at the time, Takeru hadn’t had any energy left to argue. He regretted that now. 

He regretted a lot of things.

“How should I know?” Miyako asked and her voice had gone from bland to icy with no warning. “It’s not like she tells me anything.”

Takeru watched her for another second then sighed heavily. “Are you okay?” he asked softly. Her shoulders stiffened. “I mean, you’re the one who-” Takeru stopped because he wasn’t sure how to finish that sentence.

_You’re the one who's known Iori-kun the longest?_

_The one who found him?_

_Who carried him all the way to Gennai’s?_

There was no good way to end the sentence. Because no, of course she wasn’t okay. None of them were okay. But especially not Miyako, who was all those things and more. After all, they’d had to practically pry Iori out of her arms. Takeru could close his eyes and still see it: the wide, unseeing tint of her eyes, how she shook full-bodied, the blood coating her hands.

Takeru glanced down, half-expecting to still see the blood on her hands. But, no, there was nothing, not even flecks. Her hands were clean, nails short and blunt and painted green. Impossible to tell that someone had almost bled out in her arms. Maybe that was the point behind her looking picture perfect. 

“I don’t want to talk,” Miyako said.

Takeru still found the utter blankness of her tone unsettling. It was bad enough on its own, when Takeru felt like he was going to come apart, a terrible itch under his skin. Worse when it came from Miyako, who was bright and loud and should never be that lifeless. “Miyako-chan…”

“I _don't want to talk_ ,” Miyako said again.

He sighed. “I’m always willing to listen,” he offered. It earned him another disinterested hum. 

Swallowing down more words, Takeru returned his attention forward again. One thing he doubted anything could change about Miyako was her sheer bullheadedness. He didn’t want to fight with her, and he was sure that’s what it would take to make her talk right now. Not after making Hikari cry; not with this itch under his skin, practically demanding an outlet. Not when he felt like he ad in the tunnels, a sickening, explosive mix of anger and fear, mortality bitter on his tongue.

He’d push later, when he felt more stable. 

The thoughts kept him occupied all the way to school, where the sound of the other students drew him out of his head. He looked around. The first thing he noticed was the absence of Hikari, who usually waited for them at the school gates. There was no sign of her and Takeru’s worry deepened. He hoped she was okay; it wasn’t like her to miss school even when she was in bad shape. 

The second thing he noticed was-

_Motomiya_.

Takeru froze, every muscle locking tight as he stared at the other boy shuffling his way to school. He didn’t really hear Miyako’s questioning noise. All he could focus on was Motomiya. The other boy was moving slowly, feet practically dragging. His hands were stuffed into his pockets and his head was bowed. It was like there was some dark cloud around him, so different from his usual charisma that the other students were giving him a wide berth.

The buzz under Takeru’s skin built into a roar, rushing in his ears. His hands clenched into fists without his permission.

Motomiya looked up then and saw him; he stopped as well, hands falling limply to his sides. His eyes were dark, vulnerable in a way Takeru wasn’t used to. Motomiya only held his gaze for a few seconds, then his eyes slid away. He practically recoiled, all shame and guilt and uncertainty.

Guilt, because he was conquering and enslaving a whole world. Because he’d spent months- almost half-a-year now, destroying Hikari. Because he’d broken the Yagami’s hearts. Because he’d _almost murdered Iori_.

That roaring under his skin exploded. Takeru was running before he realized it. He charged Motomiya, scream tearing itself out of his throat, and tackled him. He caught a glimpse of Motomiya’s eyes going wide, then they hit the ground and Takeru didn’t care. Motomiya didn’t try to fight back, so it was nothing for Takeru to straddle his chest and punch him. 

The first punch slammed against Motomiya’s face. As did the second. Then Motomiya got his arms up, bracing them in front of his head as protection. He still didn’t try to fight back, or even shake Takeru off. Takeru didn’t care and just kept swinging.

He screamed, wordless fury, maybe an occasional senseless curse, until his throat felt raw and matched the pain bursting in his hands.

Someone was shouting his name. Takeru paused momentarily when he registered it, which was enough for someone to drag him off Motomiya and up. It wasn’t Miyako, who he couldn’t see, or Motomiya, who was still on the ground, watching him with those dark eyes. It was Takeharu, a boy from his class, someone he was friendly with but not very close to. Takeharu watched him, eyes huge and a little scared. A lot scared and Takeru felt all his manic anger fade away.

“Dude, that’s enough,” Takeharu hissed, glancing down at Motomiya uneasily.

Takeru looked as well and felt his mouth curl into a snarl. Motomiya’s face was a mess; his lip busted, one eye blackening, blood smeared. He still seemed tense, ready for anything, but not defensive. Not willing to return the damage.

“You gotta go,” Takeharu said quickly, “Before an administrator gets here. You’ll be in so much trouble.”

Motomiya moved at the words, stumbled to his feet then shot off away from the school, other students hurrying out of his way. Takeru watched him go, then looked around. He caught a glimpse of purple that was Miyako’s hair. She stared back at him from the edge of the crowd, eyes dull and disinterested. Without a word, she turned and walked away.

Takeru stared after her for several seconds, until Takeharu shoved him to make him move. Takeru could hear teachers shouting as they approached. He turned and fled.

*****

The sword hadn’t been cleaned. Daisuke had abandoned it on the floor of the hangar following the battle. One of the slaves had brought it to Ken’s lab, where it had laid for several days while Ken dealt with the aftermath of Full Metal City. By the time Ken got to it, the blood had dried completely. 

Ken scrubbed at it with more force than was necessary, even if the blood was being stubborn. It made a good outlet for his frustration and worry. There was plenty of information coming in: word was already spreading with regards to the city, free digimon were uniting to reinforce the city, resistance along the borders was spiking.

So much about Hida, none of which could be trusted.

Ken snarled at the thought, resisting the urge to throw the sword away. Thinking about Hida made him think about Daisuke. Daisuke, who wasn’t talking to him, wasn’t talking to anyone, was clearly traumatized and refusing help. Not that there was much Ken could really do; the only thing that could help at this point was Hida somehow pulling out of this.

He’d done what what little was currently in his power to do, but it didn’t feel like enough. Especially compared to what had almost happened to Hida. What actually had happened to Hida.

Yes, he’d stopped the assault on the city as soon as he’d learned what had happened. And, when Daisuke had asked, he’d put together and had delivered whatever supplies Hida would need. It just, it didn’t feel like- it wasn’t-

He didn’t like the Chosen. As the war had gone on, he’d grown to almost despise them. At the same time though, he hadn’t… they’d never wanted this.

Ken dropped the cloth he was using and closed his eyes.

There were some things Ken would have tried to spare even his enemies. The feeling of mortality, of realizing you could die, that was one of them. Hida was only fourteen. Nevermind that Ken had been ages younger when he’d realized, Hida was _too young_.

_Why couldn’t you just walk away?_ Ken thought harshly, _Why did you have to keep fighting?_

It was a senseless question. They were Chosen. Chosen fought; Chosen had war forced into their veins; Chosen died young.

Hadn’t he learned that years ago? Ryo vanishing in the explosion and never coming home; Daisuke bleeding out in the snow, twelve and tiny and sun bright and no one helping. Himself, his body falling apart because of old war wounds.

Ken pressed his fingers to his closed eyes, so stars burst behind his eyelids. He tried to push the thoughts away, though some lingered- Ryo’s tired, empty voice on the phone; Daisuke’s weak smile wilting under the cold and pain- and returned his attention to the sword. He picked up the cloth again and got back to work.

Some time later, a Floramon appeared in the doorway to the lab. “Master?”

Ken acknowledged her with a grunt and flick of his head.

“I have the report from the lake border.”

“Read it,” Ken ordered, still focused on the sword. Floramon read off the report: his forces had continued with their previous orders and pushed out the border again. They had lost more than usual, given the recent enemy morale boost. They were awaiting supplies and reinforcements in order to hold the area, dig in enough to expand again.

It was a common sequence, such that the slaves only need a continue order rather than full instructions.

“Shall it be arranged, master?”

Ken paused in his cleaning. The Chosen would be consumed with Hida; they’d be a man down for ages. Now was an excellent time to grab land while he could, while the Chosen couldn’t oppose him.

Something deep in his chest shivered in refusal.

Pain began to thrum behind his eyes. Ken ignored it, focused on the sudden tightening in his chest. The problem with a mind like his was, he never forgot anything. Not the first time Daisuke had almost died, not the taste of his own mortality, nor those long, terrible months when Daisuke had recovered.

Daisuke had been hurt, but the war hadn’t stopped. He’d been terrified, horrified, unable to sleep, constantly shaking, unable to forget that Daisuke could be taken from him like everyone else. He’d had to fight like that, because to not fight would mean the end of the Digital World and at the time that hadn’t been an option. Hell didn’t begin to describe those months or the state he’d been in afterwards.

Ken knew he wasn’t a good person, that he could be cruel, but he liked to think he wasn’t a complete monster.

“Pull them back,” he ordered. The thrum of pain became a lance. “Pull everyone back.”

That was hadn’t stopped for him, but he could stop this war for them.

“Yes, master.” Floramon bowed and left.

Ken finished the cleaning in silence, his headache slowly fading away. Once alone, he stood and began to pack everything away.

“Ken-chan?”

Ken looked over, some tension leaving with the presence of his partner. “What is it, Wormmon?”

Wormmon was waiting by the door, swifting about anxiously. His expression was a twist of deep concern. Ken’s stomach fell at the expression and he wondered for a hopeless moment what had gone wrong now. “Daisuke-kun is here,” Wormmon said.

“What?” Ken demanded, not meaning for his tone to be so sharp. It’s just, should have been hours before he could begin to expect Daisuke. But of course it wasn’t the first time he’d lost chunks of time, forgotten whole hours. Ice flooded through him at the thought and he snapped around to look for a clock. It read exactly the time he thought it was. Relief eased the knot forming in his throat. “Why isn’t he in school?”

If he hadn’t lost time, that meant Daisuke was here way ahead of time. Daisuke had made it a point to never skip class if he could help it. He already missed enough school healing from injuries, so he couldn’t afford to skip class whenever he wanted. It would have put too much attention on him. Such caution had started to avoid suspicion regarding Daisuke’s involvement with Ken’s disappearance. At this point, it was incredibly improbable anyone would begin to wonder what he knew, they both agreed Daisuke didn’t need people side-eying him, likely noticing he was vanishing daily.

Something must have gone wrong enough that Daisuke had to escape to the Digital World. “Where is he?” he demanded.

“He’s in the infirmary,” Wormmon said. The concern on his face grew. “He looks really hurt.”

He clenched his jaw, anger and an acute sense of uselessness filling him, and marched out of the lab. Daisuke had been hurt in the human world. Someone had hurt Daisuke in the _human world_ , where ken had no control, no way to back Daisuke up, or take revenge when needed. All he could do was help with the aftermath. That was not a position Ken was ever comfortable being in.

The door to the infirmary was half-open. Ken pushed it open fully and paused there. Daisuke glanced over at him briefly, one eye already swelling shut, then returned to shifting through the cabinets. 

Ken gaped at him for a startled, aghast moment before he came back to himself.“What happened?” Ken demanded. He took the other boy in: split lip, black eye, who knew what injuries hidden by his clothes. Most importantly, Daisuke’s hands, clean, the knuckles undamaged; the sign of a very one-sided fight. There was too much damage for someone to have hit him and run off before Daisuke could retaliate. Ken doubted there were many people at Daisuke’s school who could pin Daisuke well enough that Daisuke would never have gotten the chance to fight back.

Which meant Daisuke wouldn’t have wanted to.

“Did the Chosen do this?” he demanded, his voice hard and furious. Daisuke didn’t say anything but his hands stilled briefly and Ken could see the guilty little flicker of his eyes. Rage swelled in Ken’s chest. “They did. I am going to-”

“No!” Daisuke shouted, sudden and fierce, cutting him off. Daisuke spun to face him. “Do not _touch_ them!”

Ken recoiled a little in surprise, his eyes going wide. 

Daisuke stared back at him, breathing heavily, looking as surprised by the outburst as Ken felt. Daisuke gulped thickly and glanced away with a look of shame. It had been ages since he had seen Daisuke look that openly vulnerable, that knocked off center. Ken’s heart twisted when Daisuke bowed his head and said in a quiet, tiny voice, “I’m sorry, I didn’t… I didn’t mean to yell.”

That gutting feeling of uselessness increased until it felt like he was being strangled by it. He still remembered, with a clarity he hated, how hard Daisuke had taken their first digimon kill, back when they’d still acted as Chosen. Ken hadn’t been able to figure out how to help him then, when he’d wandered around looking lost, and Ken doubted he could help now. Still, he had to try; he couldn’t just stand there. “Daisuke, it's okay,” he assured, trying to keep his tone soft and sweet.

It didn’t seem to help at all. Daisuke drew back, shoulders hunching in.

Ken frowned at the response before he managed to strangle it down and smooth out his expression. It was hard to say how Daisuke would react to any negativity in his current headspace. He stepped further into the infirmary, with more caution than he usually would, watching Daisuke for a reaction.

Daisuke ignored him and returned to shuffling through the drawers. Considering he should already know where everything was, it was disconcerting and way more than worrying.

Ken looked around quickly and felt his heart drop when he noted V-mon’s absence. An even worse sign of how Daisuke was doing. He stepped towards Daisuke, reaching out to still his hands. “Daisuke, stop. Let me.”

Daisuke recoiled almost violently, drawing his hands away. The swift reaction made Ken freeze. Daisuke’s expression was half-wild. “No, no, I-” he stopped, eyes squeezing shut, before he forced out, sounding like it was a physical strain, “I don’t want to be touched.”

Ken’s heart broke at the tone, trembling and desperate beneath the strain. “Daisuke,” he whispered.

“I don’t… I don’t want…” Daisuke said and it was closer to a gasp than Ken liked.

“Okay,” Ken agreed, holding his hands up in surrender. Ken counted the beat of Daisuke’s breathing even as he worked on making himself as unthreatening as possible. The beat wasn’t normal, but it wasn’t a worry yet either. Relief made his voice even softer. “Okay.”

Daisuke’s right hand was clenching repeatedly. Ken eyed the movement and thought about the sword he’d just finished cleaning. Ken wondered if it wouldn’t be better to just destroy it, now matter how valuable it was, how brilliant, how long it had taken to create. That way Daisuke would never have to look at it again. Ken hated to think what would happen if he had to pick it up again, if even the sense memory was plaguing him that strongly.

Ken would do anything to save him what suffering he could.

Daisuke turned away, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes. The movement of his shoulders was ragged and Ken’s heart lurched at the possibility of him crying. His hands twitched with the urge to comfort Daisuke but Ken forced them still. If Daisuke didn’t want to be touched, Ken wouldn’t touch him. “Are you alright?” he asked gently, even though it felt dumb to ask. No, obviously. He just wanted Daisuke talking to him instead of trapped inside his own head.

Daisuke drew in another ragged breath and looked up at him. His eyes were wild. “Do you know… has there been word?”

Ken shook his head wordlessly without needing to ask for further clarification. The only thing Daisuke would be concerned about now was Hida. There had been word. There had been too much damn word. A bunch of rumors, some outlandish, impossible, but enough close to the truth it was impossible to learn Hida’s condition. Ken was sure he had survived if nothing else but so much could go wrong with a gut wound. If Daisuke had split open the stomach or intestines-

Not for the first time, Ken felt nauseous considering it. He throttled it down before it could reach his face.

Daisuke’s expression fell at the silent denial. “Shit,” he breathed and his eyes began. When he spoke again, his voice rose unsteadily and words poured a bit too fast. “If it was bad- I mean, of course it was bad, but if he was, dying, or-or dead. Takaishi wouldn’t have just, let me walk away.” 

“We’ve done what we can,” Ken reminded, but Daisuke’s expression twisted in distaste that Ken agreed with.

“It’s not good enough.” Daisuke’s expression was strange, crumbled, with an emotion Ken couldn’t quite name. He was looking at his hands but didn’t seem to be wholly seeing them. He was rubbing at his fingers, picking at the thin skin around his nails. Ken winced as he saw the skin tear and peel, Daisuke apparently oblivious to both the damage and the pain. 

“Daisuke, stop that,” he ordered, resisting the urge to grab him. 

Daisuke didn’t seem to hear him. Blood dripped in thin lines down his fingers. “I didn’t-” Daisuke stopped. He looked back up at Ken. He had started crying, face gone blotchy red, though he wasn’t full out sobbing yet. “I thought he could keep up,” Daisuke said, whispered, “He was… he was keeping up.”

“Daisuke-”

“No, you don’t understand. He trains for this. He’s good. _He was good_ ,” Daisuke said, clearly attempting to be vehement beneath the strained quality of his voice. “He was keeping up with me. And then, his fucking partner called out. He turned away and, I couldn’t pull it fast enough. I-”

Daisuke’s breath wheezed out. Ken jolted forward, reaching out before he could stop himself, when he heard how thin it sounded. He stopped a step away from Daisuke, managing to hold himself in place. While Daisuke wasn’t in a full blown panic attack yet, touching him after he’d already asked not to be would be the absolute worst thing Ken could do.

Daisuke reached out blindly, managing to grab the counter edge with a white knuckled grip. He squeezed his eyes shut. “I didn’t mean to hurt him that bad,” he said. A sob choked out. “I just- I thought-”

“I know,” Ken agreed, didn’t need Daisuke to say it when he’d understood from the beginning. That Daisuke had only drawn the sword because he’d felt secure that Hida was at least his equal in skill, if not his better. That he’d only meant to have a challenge. That he’d never meant to hurt Hida _that_ badly. That he’d trusted in the skill Hida had, and gotten sloppy because of it. 

“I didn’t mean to,” Daisuke said, looking back at him finally. His eyes were nothing but tears. He took a stumbling step forward, one hand reaching out, and that was all the invitation Ken needed. He surged forward, grabbing Daisuke’s hand and wrapping himself around the other boy. Daisuke collapsed against him with a shuddering gasp, so that Ken stumbled briefly beneath his weight. 

Ken slowly sank to the floor, holding Daisuke against him, rubbing circles in his back. Daisuke clutched at him, muttering to himself, “I didn’t mean to, I didn’t, I…”

“I know, shhh,” Ken whispered back, rocking him gently. He kept whispering assurances as he let Daisuke cry against him.

Minutes passed as Daisuke cried then, slowly, slowly, began to calm. Ken didn’t let him go, even as Daisuke’s hold slackened; he just kept rubbing circles in Daisuke’s back. Daisuke looked exhausted, his eyes still troubled, but they’d stepped back from the edge of a panic attack. Little things mattered.

“Do you want to go lay down?” Ken asked, once Daisuke had worn himself out.

Daisuke hesitated, despite the fact that, even sitting down, he was swaying unsteadily. “I don’t-” He stopped, eyes shifting around uneasily.

“Well, you can’t just sit here in the middle of the infirmary,” Ken said, trying to be gentle. The infirmary wasn’t exactly a bastion of good memories after all.

After a second, Daisuke looked back at him. “The garden?” Daisuke asked tentatively. 

Ken frowned because the garden really didn’t have a place to lay down and rest. But, for whatever reason, Daisuke clearly didn’t like the idea of the bedroom, which meant the garden was just as good as the other places left. So, reluctantly, he nodded and stood.

Relief broke across Daisuke’s face and he held out his hand. Ken tugged him up easily, letting Daisuke lean against him as they walked, wrapping an arm around him to help keep him steady. Daisuke shuffled along with none of his usual energy.

Wormmon was waiting outside the infirmary, shuffling nervously in place. His eyes were huge and worried when he looked up at them. “I didn’t want to interrupt,” Wormmon said.

“It’s fine,” Ken assured,” We’re going to the garden.”

Wormmon nodded, still looking worried. “Okay. I won’t let anyone bother you.”

“Thank you, Wormmon,” Ken said with heartfelt gratitude.

Wormmon nodded and left. Ken started towards the garden again, pulling Daisuke with him. Daisuke came willingly.

“Where’s Vee?” Ken asked softly.

“Left him at home,” Daisuke mumbled, “Didn’t like him seeing me like this.”

Ken sighed but didn’t point out that V-mon wouldn’t care. Daisuke wouldn’t want to hear it right now.

The garden was technically considered part of the living area, though it was a floor below the rest. It was large, several yards of carefully cultivated trees, bushes, and flowers; the whole ceiling was glass, allowing the sun in. It had the only real sunlight in the base outside the hangars. Although not designed for someone to nap in, it was built with the intention of spending long hours inside, so it wasn’t hard to lead Daisuke through to a place where he could rest.

Ken sat down under one of the larger trees, letting Daisuke lay down with his head in Ken’s lap. Ken buried his hands in Daisuke’s hair, humming low in his chest. He didn’t say anything and merely watched as Daisuke’s eyes slowly slid closed. Relief washed through him as Daisuke slid easily into sleep.

He leaned back against the trunk, sighing heavily, never stopping the movement of his hands. He’d need to send a message to V-mon; the poor thing was probably worried out of his mind. He could open a portal, have V-mon jump through; being able to actually see Daisuke would reassure him better than anything. It would have to wait though. He wasn’t going to move until Daisuke did.

Ken must have sat there for some time, doing nothing more than curling his hands through Daisuke’s hair. Daisuke’s dreams were doubtless disturbed, but it only rarely showed on his face. Ken wished he could do more than simply sit there to ease Daisuke.

Rustling through the grass had him looking up from Daisuke’s face. Wormmon crawled towards him, carrying a tablet. “Am I disturbing?” Wormmon asked, voice pitched quiet.

“No,” Ken answered, freeing one hand and taking the tablet. There wasn’t anything of immediate importance already pulled up, only his various notes on different projects. Warmth filled his chest at Wormmon’s consideration, providing him with something to do while he took care of Daisuke. “Thank you, Wormmon.”

Wormmon nodded, crawling over him to look at Daisuke. 

“He’ll be okay,” Ken assured. He kept stroking through Daisuke’s hair instead of reaching out to pet Wormmon as he usually would.

“Okay,” Wormmon said. His eyes were still sad and worried. “Is there anything else you need?”

“No. This is more than enough,” he said.

Wormmon nodded. “I hope he feels better soon.”

“He will.”

“I’ve got everything else under control,” Wormmon assured, looking up at him now, “So you can just take care of each other, okay?”

“Okay,” Ken agreed, smiling softly down at his partner.

Wormmon smiled back before leaving.

Ken settled into his position more, one hand still settled on Daisuke’s head, and began flipping through the files on the tablet. The Kimeramon project was there, Ken noted, and immediately opened it. The project was almost finished; all that was left was some final calculations with regards to stabilizing the overall structure and collecting the digimon scans he needed. It was a startlingly easy project, more than he’d been expecting, despite the scope of it. The math had unfolded so easily, practically before he’d even begun. Even with all of the distractions, the project had moved along swimmingly, easier than any of his other projects.

He breezed through the final calculations with an ease that, even for him, was remarkable. Relief warmed through him as he marked it ready for the next phase of production. With the ever increasing danger of the fights with the Chosen, he wanted it finished and ready to deploy.

With the work he could do finished, he closed the files and returned his attention to Daisuke. Daisuke was still sleeping deeply, apparently unbothered by the shifting light through the trees or Ken’s small movements as he worked. Ken wondered if, and doubted, Daisuke had slept well the night before, or at all since Hida’s injury.

Ken sighed and, feeling uncomfortably useless again, knowing he needed a distraction, pulled up the first file he saw without checking the name.

The x-ray of his own neck and upper back loaded in. Ken stilled briefly, then let out a heavy sigh. He propped the tablet against his leg and pressed his fingers to the back of his neck. He couldn’t actually feel the… _weed_ thing growing around his spine, but the skin was hot as always. It had probably grown since the last scan.

Only in the Digital World would shrapnel act more like a plant than it had any right to, Ken thought with dark humor.

Most Chosen, in Ken’s experience, had scars to mark their wars. His war with Millenniummon hadn’t left a scar, just a weed growing around his central nervous system; one that was destroying his body slowly, with migraines and time loss and seizures that got worse every month. There was nothing Ken could do either, with it on his spine.

More of that useless feeling he hated.

Daisuke groaned quietly and Ken looked down at him to watch his eyes begin to flutter open.Ken hurriedly closed out his medical file, opening up another file to hide it. Daisuke didn’t need something else weighing on him, something else he considered his responsibility. Ken didn’t want Daisuke to run off by himself, in areas of the Digital World they didn’t control, when Daisuke was in the headspace he was. Which is what would happen if he was presented with Ken’s medical file; it s what he always did. The only times he didn’t was when Ken’s health demanded his physical presence. Daisuke never took the time to take care of himself. 

Ken would do anything to protect Daisuke.

Daisuke began blinking dazedly up at him. “Hey,” he said, voice rough, still squinting up at him sleepily. 

Ken leaned down, pressing his lips against Daisuke’s forehead. “Hey,” he said back, smiling down at him. “Feeling better?”

The skin around Daisuke’s eyes tightened. He shifted so he could bury his face in Ken’s pant leg, whole body curling inwards defensively. 

Ken restrained a sigh and petted Daisuke’s hair again. “What can I do to help?” he asked, keeping his voice soft.

Silence for a long moment. Then Daisuke shifted again and one brown eyes peeked up at him. “Can you just… talk to me? Distract me?” he asked, voice small and cautious and hopeful. He looked away again, looked towards the tablet balanced against Ken’s leg. “What are you working on?”

Ken looked down and wasn’t that surprised to see he’d reopened the Kimeramon file. He picked it up, moved so he could hold it where Daisuke could read it easily. He didn’t say anything, let Daisuke read it over. Daisuke began to slowly uncurl, losing that vulnerability as he was brought out of his hear. “You’re…” Daisuke paused, licked his lips as he stared up at the information. “You’re making a digimon?”

“Eeh,” Ken said, hesitant to call it a “digimon”. Because it wouldn’t be, not really, despite its many digimon parts. It was a weapon in truth, nothing more. Digimon were intelligent; Ken had no intention of programming Kimeramon with anything of the sort. Instincts, yes, powerful ones to combat the lag created by the Ring, but any intellect was merely going to be his own input through the Ring. Calling Kimeramon a digimon, putting it on the same level as Wormmon or Vee or even one of the digimon opposing the Empire, felt like a hideous insult to them. Ken told Daisuke as much.

Daisuke hummed in acknowledgement and reached out to take the tablet from him. Ken watched him flip through the information, watched how his expression changed minutely as he worked through the various calculations or mechanics himself. Daisuke didn’t often involve himself in Ken’s projects, didn’t have quite the inventive need Ken did, but when he chose to, his help was always beneficial. For such a massive undertaking as Kimeramon, Ken was more than open to any of Daisuke’s input.

Besides, Ken loved the rare sight of Daisuke actually putting all that brilliance of his to work outside of battle. It was thrilling, every time, to be reminded how perfectly Daisuke could match him.

“What’s its purpose?” Daisuke asked, still squinting up at the tablet.

Ken hesitated, thinking through his words, before deciding to be clinical about it. “Front-line fighter, to overpower opposition, break through lines.”

Daisuke was quiet and Ken watched his brows draw together slowly. “That’s my job,” Daisuke said after a second. Daisuke’s head rose, focused on him. Daisuke watched him, saying nothing, that beautiful mind working quickly behind his eyes. “Are you replacing me?” Daisuke asked, too much hurt in those words to even be near the joke it normally would be, if Daisuke wasn’t in such a vulnerable place.

Ken’s heart broke. “Oh, Daisuke, no. Never,” he said, as much conviction in the words as he could manage. He leaned down and kissed Daisuke, as awkward as the position was. When he pulled back, he gently touched the tight lines of Daisuke’s face, attempting to smooth away the tension. “Never anything like that.”

Daisuke’s eyes fluttered closed beneath the touch, expression loosening with a soft sigh.

Once he was sure most of the reflexive panic had eased away, he began to talk. Daisuke looked up at him again, eyes soft and dark, not as hurt as before, willing to wait for the explanation. “This war has been escalating ever since the Chosen same. We can play at superiority all we like, but they’ve become a threat. We can’t ignore. I… I’m tired of patching you up. I’m tired of sitting here, worrying about you, not able to help. Things keep getting worse and I’m… scared.”

One of Daisuke’s hands lifted, cupped his cheek. Ken held it there immediately. 

“Yes, it’s meant fight in your place,” Ken continued after a second, “Because I want you _here_ , with me, safe. I can’t lose you. I have come too far, done too much, just for the Digital World to kill you anyways. I love you, so much.”

Daisuke’s hand moved to his neck, tugged him down into another kiss. Ken let it linger, despite that his back protested the angel, and didn’t draw back until Daisuke’s hand left his neck. Daisuke’s eyes were full of affection.

Neither said anything for a second, then Daisuke lifted his tablet back up. “If that’s what you want,” Daisuke said, “You have a problem.”

“Oh?” Ken asked, taking it back.

Daisuke nodded. “It’s too strong,” Daisuke said, “Yeah, making it that dumb is gonna help a little, but, the Rings just aren’t powerful enough to hold it. You’d have to make it completely brain dead, no instincts or anything, for the Ring to work. But if you do that…”

Then it really would be too dumb to function. The Rings already affected efficiency, checked every action through its protocols to make sure it wasn’t against the interests of the Empire. It created a lag in the thought process and action, almost unnoticeable unless in a battle. There, instincts made up the difference.

“So then,” Ken said thoughtfully as he looked over the math again. The more he looked, the more he began to think something there wasn’t quite _right_. “The Rings need to be redone.”

Daisuke hummed agreement then shifted until he was pressed back into Ken’s lap. “Ken,” Daisuke said, and something of the earlier vulnerability was back in his voice. Ken immediately dropped the tablet and looked down at him. “Could you…” Daisuke tilted his head slightly, request clear.

Ken smiled a little and returned one hand to petting through Daisuke’s hair. The other settled gently on his shoulder, thumb rubbing circles into his skin. Daisuke sighed, eyes fluttering, and sank into the touch. “Want more sleep?” ken asked.

Daisuke shrugged his shoulder. “Want this,” he said quietly.

“Alright,” Ken agreed, and settled in further.

*****

Hikari woke up slowly, still groggy, body aching in the way that came with too much sleep. The first thing she realized was that she’d been drooling in her sleep; it was coated along her cheek and all over her pillow. She groaned in disgust, wiping at it sleepily, and pushed herself up onto one arm. She was on her bed; she didn’t remember falling asleep there.

The light coming through the windows was all wrong, midday when she’d fallen asleep at 1 and was sure she’d slept long enough for it to be nightfall. There was light snoring behind her. She looked over her shoulder. Taichi was sleeping behind her, squished into the small space left on her tiny bed. He was curled up a little, with an arm slung over her waist. He was sleeping peacefully, face half-buried in the pillow, seemingly unbothered by her movement. She didn’t remember him coming home; she didn’t remember much at all. Recent events were hazy when she tried to recall them. She’d gone to the Hida’s, then things got muddy.

Moving carefully, Hikari managed to slide out from under Taichi’s arm without waking him. She stood and stretched, body protesting after the lengthy sleep. Then she stopped, stood in the middle of the bedroom, and _existed_. She felt light, in a different way than before she’d gone to sleep, in a good way. Like a weight she hadn’t realized was there had disappeared. She felt… real, as odd as it was to think. But it was the only way she could describe the feeling; suddenly connected with her body when she hadn’t realized she’d ever disconnected. She could think. In straight, ordered lines, follow a single train to its end.

She started moving around, bare feet soundless on the carpet. No dizziness. Easy as anything.

She sighed out, all wondering relief, and looked over at Taichi again. Some of the relief faded as she took that second look at him. Sadness settled in. She walked back over and sat down in the bed. The skin around his eyes was puffy and bruised from crying, his cheeks dry and patchy red. She reached out and brushed through his hair. Or tried to; it was knotted beyond what was normal for him, displaying an uncharacteristic lack of care.

She sat there for several more seconds, watching him sleep, then stood and walked out of the bedroom. Her cellphone was on the dining table. She plucked it up and, ignoring the three unread messages, looked at the clock.

_9:23 a.m_.

Monday. She’d slept through the rest of Sunday. That was… just under 20 hours she’d been asleep.

Well, that explained why she felt so good.

She was missing school, she realized. She bit her lip but decided she didn’t really care. Surely, after everything that had happened, she could skip school once.

That decided, she stuffed her phone in her jacket and turned around. And realized, perhaps belatedly, that Yamato was passed out on the couch. He was sprawled across the couch as he slept, utterly unaware of her moving about. A blanket was thrown over him. She walked over to him and gazed down at him, confused by his presence.

“He brought Taichi-san home,” she heard Plotmon say. Hikari turned and found Plotmon sitting a few feet away, watching her with solemn eyes. Plotmon nodded her head at Yamato, ears flopping with the movement. “He decided to stay the night. Keep watch over you two.”

“Oh,” she said, and thought about Taichi sleeping, still showing the evidence of his breakdown. If he still looked like that, he must have been a mess before, enough that Yamato felt it necessary to walk him home. 

And they would have found her collapsed on the couch, apparently a pitiful enough sight that Yamato had decided to stay the night. She sighed, caught between guilt and affection. 

“He carried you to bed,” Plotmon continued, “And cleaned up. He watched over you and Taichi-san for a long time.”

_Of course he did,_ she thought. Yamato always cared way more than he was comfortable with. “Cleaned up?” she asked.

Plotmon turned, still with that solemn look, and motioned with her head again. There was a small pile of shattered porcelain next to the kitchen counter, broom braced next to it. It took Hikari a second of contemplation before she recognized the painted pattern on it. “Is that a lamp?” she asked, already looking towards the space where the lamp should have been. It was empty. When she looked back, Plotmon nodded. “Huh. What happened?”

“You did.”

Hikari had the sudden, vague memory of hearing something shatter during her breakdown. Right when she’d thrown the goggles. Right. Shit. She sighed, rubbing her temples. “Okay,” she muttered. She looked up again and found her goggles sitting on the counter. She stepped forward and picked them up. They were still in good condition, didn’t seem damaged. A mix of relief and disappointment filled her. She played with the strap, aware of Plotmon’s eyes on her. “Has there been word about Iori-kun?” she asked.

“No.”

She set the goggles down, not able to deny the swell of relief once they were out of her hands. “I’m going to go check on him.”

“You should leave a note. They have enough to worry about.”

“Yeah, okay,” she agreed.

She left a note saying where she was going on the coffee table next to Yamato. Then she left for the Digital World. Tailmon followed after her, silent; Hikari could see Tailmon giving her strange looks. She thought Tailmon maybe didn’t know what to do in the wake of Hikari’s breakdown.

At the house, Gennai was sitting on the porch, drinking tea peacefully. She paused before him, waited until his eyes focused on her. Then she bowed as deeply as she could. “Thank you for letting Iori-kun stay here,” she said, finally clear of mind enough to realize she should have said it before.

“Of course,” Gennai said. His expression was equal parts kind and sad. “A terrible thing, what happened. This little help is all I can offer.”

“It’s more than enough,” she assured.

Gennai hummed but his expression didn’t change. He must have seen something in the flick of her eyes, because his expression gentled. “He’s still sleeping, but he seems to have improved. His parents have retired to a guest room, as has Kido-kun. They were awake most of the night, so they may still be sleeping.”

“Thank you,” she said. She bowed again before entering the house. As she walked down the hall to the room Iori was in, she passed a room with the door open. A glance inside showed Jou collapsed on a futon, fully clothed except for his shoes and glasses. His glasses were placed safely on the floor next to him. Gomamon was sleeping at his feet.

She smiled a little and kept walking.

Iori was still unconscious, Upamon resting near his head. Neither twitched at her approach. She sat down next to him, looking him over. He looked better, his color normal, his breathing easy. She laid a hand on his forehead, relieved to discover his fever had broke. She sat back, anxiety she hadn’t even been aware of easing away with the proof of his well-being. She watched him breathe, studied the rise and fall of his chest. It was almost hypnotic.

It was the best thing she’d ever seen.

Tailmon settled next to her, and from the soft cast of her expression, she agreed. Hikari smiled a little and refocused on Iori. She lost herself to watching him breath, lost track of time and didn’t mind.

“Hey.”

Hikari jumped at the sudden voice, startled out of her thoughts, and turned to look at the doorway. Takeru stood there, hands stuffed into his pockets. He looked rumpled, unusual for him; jacket open, tie loose loose and crooked, top shirt buttons undone. His smile of greeting looked unsure.

“Hey,” she echoed. She was staring, she knew, both because of the messiness of his appearance and because, while she may have lost track of time, she was sure it was still school time. She checked the clock on her phone real quick to be sure. She was right. “What are you doing here?”

Takeru walked forward until he could sit next to her. For a second, he didn’t say anything. Instead he gazed down at Iori, looking him over much as she had. His expression gentled with relief, want soft and sweet. With a smile that looked a lot more real than the last, he gently ruffled Iori’s hair. “Tough little guy,” he muttered, all affection.

Between them Tailmon flickered her eyes about, taking them both in. Wordless, she stood and walked over to Hikari’s other side. She curled herself into a small ball and focused wholly on Iori, trying to provide them the illusion of privacy while staying close enough to comfort. 

Takeru sat back and looked over at her. “I’m skipping school. Thought it was a better idea than getting suspended,” he said. He held out his hand, the one that hadn’t ruffled Iori’s hair, between them. Hikari gapped in surprise as she took in the damage to his knuckles. It had been cleaned, bandages on what was bad enough to need it, but still incredibly painful looking. She reached out to take his hand carefully. Before she could ask, Takeru said with a small note of smugness, “I broke Motomiya’s nose.”

It took Hikari a second to fully comprehend what Takeru said. To realize it meant that Takeru had gotten into a fist fight with Daisuke. She took another look at him, checking him over for injuries. As much as she liked Takeru, she knew Daisuke completely outmatched them all when it came to fighting in such a manner. However, the second look only confirmed her first impression. Although rumpled, Takeru looked unharmed. “Are you okay?” she asked.

“Yeah.” Takeru flexed his injured hand. A grimace of pain flashed across his face as he admitted, “Kinda hurts.”

She dropped his hand and sighed. There was a sinking sensation in her stomach. “You shouldn’t have done that,” she said, “If Ichijouji finds out-”

“I don’t think anything’s going to come of it,” Takeru said. The smugness faded out of his face, replaced with something thoughtful. Angry, not wholly pleased, but thoughtful. After a second, he added, “Motomiya didn’t fight back. He just… took it.”

Takeru shrugged then, anger briefly overtaking all the other emotions on his face. “He’s still an asshole.”

Hikari scrubbed a hand over her face, restraining another sigh. “Well, as long as you’re okay,” she said and didn’t say how much she needed him to be right, to the point it went beyond hope. With Iori in such a condition, they’d never be able to create a proper defense.

“I am,” Takeru assured. 

Neither of them said anything after that for a long moment, instead watching Iori. There was a strange peacefulness to it, despite the circumstances and the knowledge of how much Iori still had to recover. A moment of stillness, where her only responsibility, the only thing she had to be doing was this, making sure her teammate was okay. After a minute, she realized Takeru had shifted his attention back to her. She could feel Takeru looking her over, the weight of his eyes thoughtful, considering. After a second of looking, he said, voice warm and gentle, “You look better.”

Hikari took a second, thought about the words. Despite the almost reactionary exhaustion to Takeru’s actions, she still felt good. Better than she had in a very long time. With no small amount of relief, she said, “I feel better. I, uh, I slept for a… long time. It was good.”

“I’m glad,” Takeru said with a smile. Then his smile faded. He turned away, lips pressing thin, and a look of guilt crossed his face. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Hikari asked. 

“For yelling at you,” Takeru said, still with that look of guilt, “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“No, no, it’s…” She stopped, sighed heavily. She bit her lip as she thought. She had been such a mess that fight; she’d tried so hard to keep pushing forward and prove she was capable that she’d fallen apart. It was only looking back that she realized just how unwell she’d been, physically and emotionally. Finally, she confessed, with a little shame, “You were right to. I … I wasn’t in a good place. I didn’t even really sleep that night. I couldn’t stop _thinking_ about everything that could go wrong. And I, didn’t sleep the night before that. I don’t remember the last time I slept _well_.”

“Hikari,” Takeru said, soft and concerned.

She reached over and settled her hand on his arm. Takeru stopped talking, instead watching her patiently. Which was good; she hadn’t realized until she’d started talking how much she needed to say it. She’d tried so hard to do it by herself, to find a way to handle it on her own. She couldn’t though. It was past time to admit that. “No, it’s… Takeru, I couldn’t even think. I tried to… I don’t know. But it almost got us killed. You were right to yell. I shouldn’t have… put you, any of you, in that position. _I’m_ sorry.”

Takeru didn’t say anything for a long time and Hikari took her hand back. Takeru sighed after a minute. “I don’t blame you,” he said. His voice was so soft it hurt. He continued with a bit of shame of his own, “I… we all saw it. _I_ saw it. How you were, falling apart. But we stopped talking about it. We stopped trying to help.”

“I didn’t want help. I wanted to do it on my own,” she said, shaking her head. It hurt to admit. She’d never considered herself a prideful person before. Recent events said it was time to reconsider.

“That’s not an excuse!” Takeru said heatedly. Hikari drew back a little in surprise. Takeru’s expression gentled, but his voice didn’t lose any of the heat. “More than anything, we should have tried harder because of that. So I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” she said. She smiled, wanly, more an acknowledgment of the comradeship she saw in Takeru’s eyes than happiness.

Takeru smiled, an echo of her own. 

Hikari turned back to Iori and couldn’t help but check his temperature again. It remained the same as before. “He’ll be okay,” she said, pulling her hand back. Her smile got a bit more real.

“I know,” Takeru agreed. There was a moment of silence before Takeru asked, almost hesitant, “Are you quitting?”

She turned to look at him in surprise and confusion. “What?”

“The goggles,” Takeru said. His eyes were sad again as he motioned towards her bare neck. “You’re not wearing them. Are you quitting?”

She sighed. She thought about the relief upon putting the goggles down, how heavy they’d felt. She thought about putting them back on, of accepting what they represented, that weight on her neck. Her stomach twisted with anxiety, until she felt sick, until her eyes burned with just the memory of the stress. She couldn’t go back to that, not yet. If she ever actually could again. “I don’t know. I just- I think I _need_ to not be wearing them for a while. To not have that… responsibility on my head. Maybe, later… if I feel I can handle it better… but for now, while Iori-kun is healing, I just… I need to breathe.”

Takeru didn’t say anything, just watched her. After a second, he turned away. He leaned back on his hands, whole posture oddly casual. “...You know, this war, I’ve realized there are a lot of things I just _can not_ do,” he said, still with that strange casualness.

Hikari frowned, eyebrows drawing together with the force of her confusion.

Takeru pretended he didn’t see her reaction, still talking, “I’m _very_ bad at keeping track of more than two things in a battle, let alone the whole team. I can’t size up a situation for the life of me, not unless it's really obvious. Long battle planning, more than four moves ahead, utterly beyond me. 

“And I know Miyako-chan has only two modes: charge in and run away. Iori-kun, very good at that whole ‘unbending iron will’ thing. Not that good at recognizing when he _should_ bend. And all of that, it doesn’t even cover… the _things_ you notice about XV-mon and Stingmon and… I can’t do that.” Takeru paused and looked over at her. He sat up straight and the casualness left his expression. A painful earnestness crept up in its place, making his eyes seem overly bright. “And I guess, what I’m saying is, I think you’re amazing. I didn’t say it before and I should have. You are a great leader.”

He stopped again, clearly thinking through his next words. Hikari let him think, her chest tight and warm in the best way. Takeru continued eventually, something sad but determined threading in under the painfulness earnestness “But, I don’t want to lose you. If it’s down to you quitting or this destroying you, I would prefer you quit. Every time. It’s not something to be ashamed about. You are my best friend. I’m with you. No matter what.”

Hikari’s smile was wobbly, eyes watering. She sniffed a little, chest still tightening, and watched alarm creep over Takeru’s face. Before he could start talking again and actually make her cry, she leaned against him, head dropping onto his shoulder .“Thank you,” she said, voice raspy.

Takeru’s arm wrapped around her shoulders, tucking her in against his side. “No problem.”

*****

Days past before Iori woke up.

He did so slowly, feeling like he was made of pain and cotton. It was hard to think with how it felt like his head was stuffed and something had died inside his mouth. He blinked slowly up at a ceiling he didn’t recognize; most of his attention was on unsticking his tongue from the roof of his mouth rather than figuring out where he was. Once he could move his tongue, he swiped it across his teeth and gums, trying to ease the dryness, grimacing at the stale taste.

His stomach hurt. An understatement, actually, he realized, as the pain began to really seep through the groggy numbness of sleep. It was a fire across his abdomen, trailing up into his chest, wholly demanding of attention. For, well, Iori wasn’t sure of the time passing, but for what felt like a long time, the pain was all he could focus on. It took everything he had at the moment to simply breath through it.

The pain didn’t fade, but he slowly grew used to it. Enough to realize that there was a dead feeling in his arms and legs, like he hadn’t moved in a long while. When combined with how dry his mouth was, it gave evidence to the idea that he’d been asleep for an unusually long time. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been asleep for though.

He didn’t know where he was either, Iori realized. He’d noticed before, but he’d been distracted enough that it hadn’t really hit him. He didn’t know where he was or how he’d gotten there.

He tried to move about, but his limbs resisted, still with that settled in heaviness from lack of movement. He tried to only move his arms and legs, afraid of upsetting the pain in his stomach. However, even the slight shuffle he managed in his arms seemed to upset something else because pain flared up in his left arm. Not quite to the level of his stomach, but Iori immediately stilled with a weak gasp.

While he laid still, breathing shallowly and waiting for the pain to fade, he became aware of voices talking quiet and calm, close enough he should have noticed before. He turned his head carefully towards the voices, wary of setting off more unexpected pain.

His mother sat at his bedside, in the room he didn't recognize, bent and exhausted and sad. Her eyes were red and swollen, her hair uncombed, her expression pinched. Iori’s throat closed the longer he stared at her. She looked like she had when his dad died. “Mom?” he asked, voice weak and grating to use, but he didn’t care. His sole focus was his mother.

His mother snapped around to look at him. Her eyes widened and slowly filled with tears, the line of her mouth wobbly. “Iori,” she said, in a voice that was thick and wet and trembling. Why did she sound like that?

Upamon bounced suddenly into view. “You’re awake!”

Iori stared at his partner, watching him bounce repeatedly. It occurred to him, slowly, that his mother and Upamon were in the same room, that Upamon wasn’t pretending to be a stuffed animal, that with no one else in the room the only one they could have been talking to was each other. That his mother apparently knew about Upamon and had for long enough to speak with him casually.

His mother leaned over him, placing both hands on his cheeks, drawing his attention; her smile was shaky and she had started crying. “Iori,” she said again, voice breaking beneath the weight of her emotions. Her hands moved, brushing his hair away and smoothing her thumbs across his cheeks. “Oh, Iori.”

Upamon was still bouncing, grinning hugely, repeating, “You’re awake, you’re awake.”

“What’s going on?” he asked, beginning to feel desperate. His mother was crying and looking at him like he was some kind of miracle. He took a deep breath to brace himself then forced his arms to move, pushing himself upwards slowly. Pain flared from what felt like everywhere, but he kept moving. He only got as far as his elbows before he simply couldn’t keep going; the pain wrapped a wire cord around his lungs and stole his breath, so he could only hang there, gasping desperately, aware of sweat breaking out along his face.

His mother moved to finish helping him up, so he was sitting up fully. Iori wasn’t sure it was better. The exertion of movement was certainly gone, as was the strain in his arms; however, now most of his weight and the pressure of the position was on his abdomen, the centerpoint of the pain. Then his mother wrapped him up in her arms, clutching him close, and some of the worst pain disappeared beneath the comfort of the embrace.

“Iori, oh, my little boy,” she breathed.

Iori blinked away the sudden burn in his eyes, throat tightening, unsure where the knot in his chest had come from. Only that he needed this, that there was a jagged edge in his chest he hadn’t noticed before and being held was the only thing easing it. He hugged her back, sob logging in his throat; he couldn’t help but feel small and vulnerable and young and _safe_. “Mom”

He clung to her, hiding his face in her shoulder. She was petting his hair, holding him to her as hard as he was holding her. He was crying himself before he realized it.

After a moment, she pulled back, gently gripping his cheeks again. She rubbed away his tears, smiling wetly at him. “Oh, my brave, wonderful boy,” she said, leaning forward to press a kiss to his forehead. “You’re okay. You’re going to be okay now.”

“Mom?” he asked, his voice cracking.

“Iori?” Upamon asked, voice going soft.

Iori looked down, blinking through his tears, and found Upamon sitting next to him. His eyes were huge and watery.

“I’m sorry,” Upamon said, his voice breaking. Iori watched that little body shake entirely. “I’m sorry. I should have been there.”

Iori’s breath caught as he watched his partner shake apart. He tried to reach out for him, but the pain had him recoiling into himself. Instead, his mother slowly pulled back and reached out for Upamon herself. She placed Upamon in his lap and let him curl around him. “Poor little thing,” she said, sniffling, “He’s been so worried.”

Upamon was still apologizing, though Iori wasn’t sure why.

Before he could ask, before he could do more than gently pat Upamon on the head, someone cleared their throat. He looked up, towards the door of the strange room he was in, and found Kido Jou standing in the doorway. He carried a small bag and looked as exhausted as Iori’s mother. “Apologies for interrupting,” Jou said, bowing a little.

Iori’s mother rubbed away her own tears. “It’s no problem, Kido-kun. You have to check on him, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Jou agreed, “And I’m sure your father would appreciate being woken up.”

“Oh, of course.” His mother leaned over again and pressed another kiss to his forehead. Then she stood, still brushing away tears. “And perhaps some food too?” she asked, smiling weakly down at him.

Iori nodded, attempting to smile back at her. He watched her walk out, only to have Jou take her place at his side.

Jou smiled, expression kind. Iori watched as he settled, placing his bag on the floor. “How are you feeling, Hida-kun?” Jou asked.

There was no lying to that gentle expression, not that Iori wanted to. “Everything hurts,” he admitted.

Jou saddened, his eyes darkening, but Iori wasn’t sure why. “Yes. It probably will for a while yet I’m afraid.”

“Where am I?” he asked.

“The Digital World. At an allies’ place,” Jou informed.

Iori felt his eyes widen and he looked towards the door. His mother was in the Digital World; so too, apparently, was his grandfather. “But-”

“It was Hikari-kun’s idea,” Jou said, “Given the extent of your injuries, there was really no way to hide it. So she told them.”

_Injuries?_ Iori wondered and felt another deep shot of pain. Was that why he hurt so much?

Some of his confusion must have shown on his face, because Jou sighed. “How much do you remember? It’s not uncommon to forget the events surrounding such a traumatic injury.”

Iori tried, thinking back to the last thing he remembered before this room. The battle, the city, the tunnels. “Motomiya.” Appearing from the shadows like a wraith, eyes gold, barely human. The hum of the sword. _The sword_. “He had a sword,” Iori said. It felt like his voice was coming from very far away. He pressed his hand lightly to his stomach, where he could feel the bandages through the material of his shirt.

He didn’t notice when his breathing picked up, too focused on trying to remember. The cave in, the sword, the fight. _Motomiya’s blade dripping blood; his eyes huge, horrified._ Cold sweat broke out along his forehead, the nape of his neck. 

A hand settled on his arm, drawing his attention back out of his head. He gasped sharply, looking up at Jou again. Jou watched him with worried eyes. “Are you okay?”

Iori realized suddenly that he wasn’t actually okay at all. His heart was racing, making his chest hurt, and his hands were shaking. He drew in a shaky breath. Jou was still watching him, his worry obviously mounting rapidly. 

It was almost reflexive at that point to blank the distress from his face. Iori put all his focus into calming down his breathing rate, until it was something approaching normal. His heart beat remained slightly too fast, but it steadied enough for him to feel he could say, “I’m fine.” His voice shook slightly, but that was probably just from crying with his mother.

Upamon squirmed about until he could look up; he had the same disbelieving look Jou did. Upamon, at least, could probably feel his skipping heartbeat.

“If you’re sure,” Jou said. Iori nodded, not sure what to make of his expression. Jou sighed and said, a touch apologetic, “I need to check your bandages.”

Iori merely nodded in agreement. “Alright.”

He sat still, allowing Jou to work. Jou started with his arm, then moved to his stomach. Iori pinned his eyes to the far wall, not quite able to bring himself to look at the wound. The touch of Jou’s fingers around the damaged skin, careful as it was, was bad enough. Made it so all of his attention was focused on the wound, the pain. The memory.

( _Motomiya slid out of the shadows like he was part of them, eyes gold, glowing-_ )

Iori clenched his hands into fists to control how they shook; he fought to keep his breathing steady, could feel it wanting to catch in his throat.

“It’s healing fine,” Jou said, pulling Iori’s attention back towards him. There was an odd note in his voice Iori didn’t know what to think of. He wondered at it while Jou searched through his bag and drew out another roll of bandages.

Jou had tried to keep his voice steady, had tried to hide that odd note. Iori wasn’t sure why, because he didn’t think Jou was lying; Jou was the Child of Sincerity. Iori trusted that.

Iori moved as directed while Jou re-bandaged him, hoping his staring wasn’t so obvious as it felt. Jou didn’t seem to notice he was being examined, all his attention on making sure the bandages were in place. It wasn’t until Jou pulled back, meeting his eyes again that Iori even began to understand. Relief, plain in Jou’s eyes where it had been somewhat hidden in his voice. 

“Are those too tight?” Jou asked.

Iori breathed deep, felt the pull of the bandages as his chest expanded. “No.”

Why would Jou feel relieved? 

How bad had he really been, that Jou would feel relieved that he was healing well? Such relief wouldn’t be there if his recovery had been a sure thing. Iori ached the more he considered it. So he shook it off, tried not to think that maybe he’d come close to dying in those tunnels.

As he watched, Jou put the roll of bandages away, then pushed his glasses up so he could rub at his eyes. When he met Iori’s eyes again, the relief was gone, replaced by a kind of solemness that made Iori’s chest tighten. “I’m sorry, but they’re going to scar. Even your arm,” Jou said.

The breath choked in his throat briefly before he managed to force himself to keep breathing. “I understand,” he said, voice tighter than he wanted. He wasn’t sure why the idea bothered him so much. It would just be a scar or two. He wasn’t vain enough to be bothered by something like that.

Jou leaned forward and gently patted his good arm. “You’ll be okay,” he assured. Iori nodded, shifting so he was holding Upamon closer to him. Jou continued listing out the steps he’d need to take each day to ensure the wounds continued to heal properly, and Iori nodded along. Upamon as well seemed to be paying the instructions a vast amount of attention, an unusual amount of attention for him in the Baby stage.

“Thank you, Kido-san,” Iori said once Jou wound to a finish.

Jou shrugged. Iori didn’t think he’d ever seen the older boy look quite as exhausted as he currently did. Jou packed up his bag again and stood. “I know your family’s been quite worried. I believe I’ll get out of your way.”

Iori nodded before a thought struck him. “Ah, Kido-san.” Jou paused in the doorway and turned back to look at him. “The city, what happened?”

Jou smiled gently. “Everything ended well,” he assured, “You can ask your team for details if you wish. I’ sure they’ll be by as soon as they learn you’re awake.”

Tension he hadn’t realized was there eased away at the reassurance. “Thank you, Kido-san,” he said again, smiling widely. Jou nodded at him, still with that soft smile, and left.

For the next two minutes, Iori was alone with Upamon. He held his partner carefully in his lap, trying to find the proper distance between the closeness he wanted and not pressing Upamon against his wounds. He didn’t say anything, just focused on slowly stroking his hand across the top of Upamon’s body. Upamon cried weakly, in fits and stops. Iori brushed the tears away, trying to find words that would help the big, watery eyes staring up at him. Upamon watched him the same way his mother had: like he was all at once heartbreaking and something like a miracle. It was… a little uncomfortable making. Iori wished he could at least take away the devastation on Upamon’s expression.

Before he could figure out what words to use, his grandfather appeared in the doorway. There was a moment of stillness, where his grandfather simply stared at him. Iori gave him a small smile, a little unsure of himself, not quite knowing how to parse his grandfather’s expression. “Hello,” he said.

His grandfather stumbled forward and shakily sank to his knees next to Iori. Before Iori could say anything, he found himself being tugged forward into another hug. His grandfather held him close, both arms around his shoulders. Iori gasped in surprise before he relaxed into the embrace, hooking his chin over his grandfather's shoulder.

One hand moved to gently cup the back of his head. “You stupid boy,” his grandfather said, voice gruff. The old man pulled back and Iori was startled to see him almost crying. His grandfather moved so that he was holding him by the shoulders. “When I said you could have secrets, this is not what I meant.”

Iori remembered, abruptly, where they were, that apparently Hikari had told them everything, that his grandfather _knew_. He recoiled a little, ducking into himself. “Are you angry?”

“Infinitely,” his grandfather said. But the grip on Iori’s shoulders stayed gentle and a wobbly smile crossed his grandfather’s face. “Fighting a war, risking yourself like that. I’m furious.”

Iori refused to look down, though he really wanted to. “I had to. The Empire-”

“Yagami-chan told us everything,” his grandfather interrupted, “I know. I’m furious. And I am so, so proud of you.”

Iori stared, stunned, aware of warmth spreading rapidly up his chest into his eyes. “I…”

“She told us everything. Everything you’ve done to protect people, those… digimon. Everything you’ve done to protect your friends. You’re a good boy, Iori. I’m so proud.”

Iori did duck his head then, to hide the fact that he was crying again, suddenly, hiccuping around the gentle feeling in his chest.

“Shhh,” his grandfather said and a warm hand ruffled his hair. “You’ll be okay.”

He nodded, lifting one hand to wipe at his eyes. “I don’t…” He stopped, not liking how his voice cracked. He didn't understand why he felt so raw, why a few kinds words had broken him down, why he’d so desperately needed his mother’s hug. 

He didn’t seem to need to actually force out the words through his suddenly tight throat. He was pulled into another hug; his grandfather pulled Iori in close and tucked the boy’s head under his chin. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

“I’m sorry for lying,” he said weakly.

His grandfather hummed, wide, warm hand rubbing circles in his back. “It’s alright.”

Noise drew Iori out of his grandfather’s embrace eventually, not entirely happily. He looked over to the door, something in his chest easing a little as he saw his mother coming in. She was balancing a tray, expression hopeful. “Hungry?” she asked.

He wasn’t, not really, but it had probably been long enough that he should make an attempt to eat. He nodded. 

His mother sat down on his other side and for a second, Iori felt ( _trapped, dirt knocked loose and coating every inhale, the rock walls closing in_ ) crowded, a little too pressed in. His breath stuck in his throat, heart picking up.

Then his grandfather shuffled back a little, to a more normal distance from Iori, so they could eat without bumping into each other. The trapped feeling abruptly eased. Iori tried to be subtle about the sharp breath he took in; he wasn’t sure if he managed, but no one said anything.

“I forgot to ask Kido-kun if you need a special diet,” his mother said worriedly, “Considering the… location, you know? But this should be fine, I think.”

It was a heavy broth with very little else to it. Iori felt more relieved than he probably should, that he wouldn’t have to choke down a heavy meal. “It’s fine,” he assured. It did smell amazing too.

She smiled with relief. She’d made actual food for herself and his grandfather and, Iori was both relieved and surprised to notice, for Upamon.

Iori put most of his attention to slowly eating the broth. It was quiet, peaceful, between the four of them and it helped to ease the strange, sharp edges in his chest. Took the blunt off, until he felt more stable, like he wasn’t about to fall apart suddenly again. 

And as those sharp edges softened, he was able to more clearly focus and realize he actually had a lot of questions. He still wasn’t entirely clear on where he was, or how long he’d been there. Most of the fight in the tunnels was a blur Iori didn’t want to look at too clearly, except he needed to know what had happened. If his team was okay. His family probably wouldn’t have that many answers for the last bit, but maybe the rest... “Um, how long, exactly, have I been here?” he asked, stilling the motion of his spoon.

“Oh, it’s been a bit,” his mother said. A thoughtful look crossed her face. “It’s Wednesday now, I think. Late afternoon. I’ll admit, I was more focused on you.”

_Wednesday_ , Iori though with some despair. He’d been out for _days_. He must have missed so much. And his team, who knew what kind of mess they’d gotten themselves into? Especially since last time-

A part of him winced at the sudden memory of Hikari’s tear-streaked face, Takeru’s furious cursing. That was how Iori had left them. 

“The others?” he asked timidly, almost afraid.

“They’ve been by frequently,” his mother said, “They took turns watching over you for us. So we could rest. Sweet kids.” Her voice was weird when she said the last words, equal parts approval and despair. Iori frowned a little. 

She kept talking, “Though of course, that little one never left your side.” She pointed at Upamon.

Iori looked over at his partner and realized with a jolt that Upamon wasn’t eating. Sharp worry spiked through him as he turned to face Upamon more. Before he could even ask what was wrong, Upamon shied away, a little red, but most of his hesitation didn’t seem to be embarrassment. 

Iori took a deep breath and picked Upamon up in both hands, lifting him until Upamon had no choice but to look him in the eye. “Thank you for watching over me,” he said, carefully enunciating every word.

Upamon’s eyes dropped, filling with tears. Not embarrassment, or pride, or even joy. Iori puzzled at his partner for a second before he managed to figure out what was wrong. That look was guilt. 

He resisted the urge to sigh, instead leaning forward until his head rested against Upamon. “Thank you,” he said again, voice soft.

“I’m sorry,” Upamon said, crumbling beneath the gentleness.

Iori didn’t pull back when he shook his head. He wanted Upamon to feel the disagreement. “No, you did nothing wrong.” The only one who could possibly be blamed was Motomiya. He’d been the one holding the sword after all. 

Upamon hiccuped but pressed up against him, not protesting further. Iori held him there for another second, before the strain in his bad arm grew to be too much. He gently set his partner back down and pushed Upamon’s food closer to him in instruction. Upamon didn’t seem to have his usual appetite, but he began to eat all the same.

Iori sighed softly and looked up. Both his mother and his grandfather watched him with gentle, warm expressions. Embarrassment of his own had him shifting uncomfortably. “What?”

“It’s nothing,” his grandfather said, tone so affectionate Iori ducked his head.

There was another moment of silence before his mother said, “Kido-kun did say you could come home once you woke up, provided walking isn’t too difficult.”

Iori nodded. He wasn’t sure he felt up to walking quite yet, but he would admit to being a little eager to be out of this room and at home. There was nothing bad about this place, if he thought about it objectively, but he didn’t know where he was and it was irritating those sharp edges in his chest. Being at home sounded much better, much more comfortable, much _safer_. 

He continued eating. His thoughts drifted as he considered: three and a half days he’d slept through recovering, right after the end of the biggest battle of the war so far. He’d missed the no doubt messy clean up. He remembered suddenly that his team had promised they’d help secure the area around Full Metal City. Had they kept that promise?

The idea was terrifying the more he considered it.

They were already a man down with him recovering. On top of that, Hikari had been ragged last he’d seen her, falling apart. Were they still fighting with the team like that? Were they fighting _Motomiya_ like that? Motomiya, who apparently didn’t care at all about cutting them down? Had he hurt them?

Iori’s grip tightened tight-knuckled around his spoon before he reminded himself: his team had stopped by, they’d watched over him. His family had seen them. Surely if something really bad had happened to the others, they would have noticed. Upamon at least would have mentioned it, right? 

Surely.

Still, he… he needed to rejoin the others. He needed to help them. Before they ran out of luck. 

He looked up at his family. “Did Kido-san mention when I could fight again?” he asked.

His answer was silence.

His mother looked up at him, eyes wide, face suddenly ashen. His grandfather didn’t look as shocked, but he also didn’t look happy or approving. 

“What?” his mother asked, voice a breaking whisper.

“My team needs me,” Iori said, “I’m worried about them. When can I rejoin them?”

“Oh, never,” his mother said. There was a surprising steel in her words and she looked angry, enough Iori shrank away. “You are not going out there again. I refuse.”

Iori blinked over at her. For a minute he couldn’t do anything else except simply look over at her. “... What?” he asked.

“You’re not fighting again.”

“You can’t be serious,” Iori said, still blinking over at her. Upamon was squirming about, trying to bury himself into the blankets, to stay away from everyone’s eyelines. After a second, Iori looked over at his grandfather.

His grandfather shook his head. “Don’t look at me,” he said, “I’m with her. I don’t want you fighting again either.”

“You said you were proud,” Iori said, and he felt a little bad about the betrayed tone of his voice.

It didn’t appear to affect his grandfather at all though. He merely met Iori’s eyes calmly. “I did and I am. But I’m also afraid. Even ignoring how badly you were hurt-” He paused and drooped, a tight, pained expression taking over. “Even ignoring that, I can’t abide it, having seen what’s happened to Yagami-chan.”

Iori’s breath caught in his throat at the mention of Hikari. She’d probably gotten worse since his injury. He couldn’t even imagine.

“When you first introduced her, she was so bright. The girl who told us what happened, that girl was a shell. I don’t want to see that happen to you.”

“But,” Iori said. He couldn’t- the idea of not rejoining the fight hadn’t ever occurred to him. It was laughable, almost. Of course he needed to go back. “I have to.”

“No, you don’t,” his mother said. She wasn’t yelling, but there was still that tone of steel in her voice. It was actually a bit more terrifying than the yelling would have been.

Iori licked his lips as he tried to find the right words to convince them. Because he couldn’t just sit on his hands for the rest of forever while his team fought. While the Empire continued trying to conquer the Digital World. While Motomiya and Ichijouji were allowed to just do whatever they want. To kill whoever they wanted. 

Irritation built the more he thought about it. Because he couldn’t allow that, couldn’t imagine it. “But I have to,” he said. His tone came out a little rougher, a little harsher than he wanted, but he couldn’t figure out how to make them understand what seemed so patently obvious. “I want to.”

“Want to?” his mother echoed. Her voice pitched up into something a little hysterical. “What do you mean want to?”

“I mean, I _want to_ ,” Iori said.

“You were _stabbed_ ,” she all but shouted back at him.

“That’s my point!” Shouting hurt, which was something he hadn’t expected, but it didn’t stop him. “Motomiya _knows_ me. We were almost friends at one point. Did Hikari-san mention that? The things he’s willing to do to _friends_? He’s willing to do so much worse to the Digital World. And I _can’t_ just sit here while he does! Someone has to stand up to him. He has to be _stopped_!”

His grandfather pulled away a little, examining him with dark eyes. Iori didn’t look over at him, though he could see the examination from the corner of his eye; he kept his attention on his mother, because even from the side that look made him uncomfortable. Made him feel like he’d done something wrong.

“He’s a monster,” Iori said, and even he could admit to being surprised at the heat in his words. “He doesn’t care. He treats it all like it's some sort of game, a challenge, just to keep him entertained. I cannot leave this world to his mercies. I cannot leave my friends.”

“You almost died!” His mother shouted. She was tearing up again; most of the anger draining, leaving something terrified and desperate in its place. Iori felt his stomach drop. “You _almost died_.”

Iori gulped thickly, felt his irritation vanish. He looked down at Upamon, because it was better than his mother’s tears, or the way his grandfather watched him. Upamon looked back with wide eyes, looking scared and worried. Iori reached out and settled his hand on Upamon’s head, let it rest there.

Baby Digimon were always so small, always felt so fragile; there was something about the big, watery eyes that tugged at his chest. They were such bright things, so easily trusting.

He looked back up at his mother. His heart hurt when he saw she was crying, saw the devastated look on her face. Finally thought to connect the hidden relief in Jou’s voice with how everyone kept looking at him. Wondered if they’d been a point in time where they hadn’t been waiting for him to wake up, but waiting to see if he lived at all. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, making sure to keep his voice soft. “But I’m not stopping.”

There was silence for a moment, everyone staring at him. Iori winced a little at the sound his mother made. “You don’t have to do this,” she whispered, and he hated that she looked defeated.

Iori paused for a second, tried to think through his words. “No, I don’t have to,” he agreed slowly, “But I can. So I will.”

“We can’t stop you,” his grandfather said. “Even if we tried, you’re a smart boy. You’d find a way.”

Iori shook his head in agreement.

“So we just agree?” his mother demanded.

“There will be rules, from now on,” his grandfather said, “You’re going to have to tell us everything. There have to be limits.”

“I understand,” Iori agreed. He looked over at his mother. “Whatever you need, I’m willing. But I won’t stop. They need me.”

There was a pause, then his mother leaned forward and wrapped him in a hug. She pressed her face into his hair, and Iori didn’t mention the embrace was just a little bit too tight. “Please, please, I can’t lose you too.”

“I’ll be careful,” he said softly, “I won’t underestimate him again.”

She drew back eventually. Iori focused his eyes on his plate, because no one looked happy. There was a resigned kind of helplessness he hated yet knew he couldn’t do anything about. Not and continue fighting. And he couldn’t imagine walking away from this war.

“We’ll talk about this more once you’re healed. Once we… once we all have some distance,” his mother said. The last words had a faint tone of disbelief, like she didn’t really think his injury would ever be distant enough.

Iori nodded and licked his lips, staring down at the remains of his broth. Now that the argument was done, that irritation gone, he realized his heart was racing in a wholly unpleasant way. “I think, I need to go to the bathroom,” he said. Really, he thought he might just need to be out of the room.

“Do you need help?”

“Just standing,” he said. He hoped.

They helped him stand in a slow painful process. Iori gasped through it, hands clenching tight as he tried to get his feet under him. Even ignoring the pain of his wounds, his legs still felt numb. And his mother and grandfather pressed in on both sides, intent to catch him should he stumble, and that closed-in feeling was returning.

It was a relief to get his feet under him just because it meant he could step out from between them. “Thank you,” he said, aware it came out thin, that his breath was wheezing. “I’ve got it.”

“Are you sure?”

He nodded. He couldn’t quite bring himself to say that the closeness was worse than the physical strain. 

They didn’t look very sure, but they directed him towards where the bathroom was and Iori stumbled out quickly.

He closed the door of the bathroom behind him, flipped the lock, then sank to the ground.

His chest hurt. He wasn’t sure if it was his heart and the fact he couldn’t get any air in. His breath stuttered and choked on every inhale. Iori pressed a hand over his mouth, felt the rapidly increasing rate of his breathing.

The bathroom was small, dark because he hadn’t turned on the light before sitting down, and he half-expected (more than half expected) Motomiya to melt out from the shadows. He could hear the hum of the sword, smell the loose dirt from the cave in.

He drew his knees up, trying to get small, and the pain-

_He turned away and missed the arc of the sword, missed the opportunity to block it. It tore through his stomach and all Iori could do was stare down at the wound, at the not-quite silver sword dripping blood, at Motomiya with his gold eyes huge and mouth twisted into that smirk._

Iori pressed his forehead to his knees and quietly panicked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all appreciate how awkward tri has made parts of this chapter for me
> 
> It's so long, kill me (cries)


	16. Heavy is the Head

Iori learned quickly that recovering was primarily two things: pain and sleeping. 

Almost every movement he made was accompanied by pain. He hadn’t realized before how much movement involved his lower abdomen and stomach. He grew used to the pain eventually, at least until he went to sleep, and then he had to build up his tolerance again. And he slept so much. Everything he did seemed to take an exhausting amount of energy, even just breathing. Between the strain of healing, moving, and simply being in pain, he had no energy.

He slept most of the day and, when he was awake, he was in too much pain to do anything. It was perhaps the single most frustrating thing he’d gone through. He hated it.

There was nothing he could do but endure though. Having his family nearby helped. They were almost always with him and when they weren’t, Upamon was. Everyone was happy, even eager, to help him however they could, so he didn’t have to actually move much. And simply having someone to talk to helped. It hurt less when he had something else to focus on. Waking up from another nightmare and having Upamon right there, it was nice.

But, at the same time-

He felt terrible and unbelievably ungrateful thinking it, but he hated having them near as much as he appreciated it. Half the time their presence hurt as much as it helped.

Even ignoring those moments where one of them would press in too close, so there was suddenly a solid, ungiving wall of mass dominating the side of his vision; those moments when there suddenly wasn’t enough room to breathe; even ignoring that, Iori hated the way they _looked_ at him. Like he was fragile. Like he was going to break.

He wasn’t. He refused to.

He’d appreciated it, at first; he’d felt special, comforted, protected even. But time moved on, and it began to bother him. Began to remind him of how little he could actually do, how vulnerable he was.

(He felt guilty, too, because sometimes his mother looked at him in a wholly different way. The way that she’d used to look at pictures of his father just after his death. Like she was mourning Iori. Like her heart was broken. He’d done that. That was his fault. It sat in his chest and mixed sourily with his frustration.)

Worst of all was that, despite Iori’s inquiries, he received very little information about how the war was going. His team visited but he was asleep every time and missed all of it. He only learned of the visits after the fact from Upamon, which only fueled his frustration. Everyone kept assuring him the team was doing alright but Iori didn’t think that meant much. What did _alright_ even mean anymore? Hadn’t the war already completely skewed their perception of what being alright meant?

So he had no idea how his team was actually doing, if they were holding together, if Hikari was well, if they were managing without him. If the Empire had responded to the loss at Full Metal City. If Motomiya had attacked, if he still had his sword. 

If Motomiya even thought of using that sword to hurt one of his team- 

Iori clenched his hands in the blankets, gritting his teeth at the thought. His chest tightened, squeezed the air out of his lungs, until it added to the general pain he was already in. And it was… it was _just_ anger; the thought of one of his team having to go through this was infuriating, as was the knowledge he couldn’t currently do anything to prevent it.

He closed his eyes, focused on breathing through that tightness in his chest. He couldn’t do anything until he healed and working himself into a panic attack wasn't going to be conductive to that.

Eventually the tightness in his chest and the anxious itch under his skin faded away. He unclenched his hands and pressed them flat to the blanket. He ignored that they shook.

He was fine. He would be fine. He couldn’t be otherwise when he was needed.

Iori snapped out of his thoughts when he heard the sound of multiple footsteps on the wooden floor outside. He looked over towards the door, head tilting as he listened. The footsteps were heavy, hurried, then the door was thrown open. Takeru stood in the doorway; his eyes went wide when he saw Iori awake and looking back at him. Patamon, sitting on his hat, perked up and didn’t hesitate before throwing himself forward towards Iori with a cry of joy. 

That seemed to break Takeru out of his daze. Takeru grinned hugely, eyes bright and happy; as he stepped into the room, he called over his shoulder, “He’s awake!”

Iori caught Patamon and held him in his lap, having figured out with Upamon where was safe to do so. Patamonj squirmed happily, giggling when Iori patted him. The commotion woke Upamon, who wiggled over to his side as he squinted sleepily. Patamon, apparently satisfied with his confirmation Iori was okay, leapt from his lap and tackled Upamon. 

Iori looked up from the two’s roughhousing and found his whole team crowding in through the door. They hurried to his side, expressions matching in excitement. Iori looked over them - _too close, too close, please,_ no _, just breathe_ \- and met Hikari’s eyes. She smiled at him, soft and affectionate and happier than he’d seen in what felt like ages.

Before he could say anything, Miyako leaned forward and consumed him in a hug. After a second of that suffocating, panicky feeling, Iori managed to relax into the embrace. At that point, he’d been hugged more in the past week than he had the whole of the year, so he was mostly expecting it. 

What he wasn’t expecting was how… contained she was; she held him, her shoulders shaking, but she didn’t make a sound. Silent, nothing approaching her usual dramatics.

After a minute, she let him go and sat back. She tried to smile, but it wobbled.

Iori frowned at her, at the uncharacteristic behavior. Then he noticed she was sitting a little apart from the others. Not enough to normally be remarkable, except for how odd she was acting; she was tilted away from them, several inches of space compared to Hikari and Takeru sitting with their knees pressed together.

He slanted a look towards the others. Hawkmon was at Miyako’s side and Iori found all of his concern mirrored in the digimon’s face. Takeru seemed wholly focused on him, so Iori couldn’t be sure if Miyako’s behavior was really something to be concerned about or just a reaction to him being awake.

Takeru himself looked normal, mostly, except for the heavy scabbing over the knuckles of one hand. There wasn’t any other signs of a scuffle, but a single sign was unusual for Takeru, who was normally laid back and not giving to punching people. Concern spiked sharp and clear in his chest. 

Hikari was a completely different matter from the other two. Whatever concerns he’d had about how she was dealing in the aftermath of Full Metal City were apparently unfounded. She looked comfortable pressed close to Takeru, so it was probable they’d resolved their argument. More than that, she looked healthy. Gone were the deep bruises under her eyes, the too pale pallor of her skin, the slump of her shoulders. There were still signs of long lasting strain, but she looked good. Better than he could remember.

She wasn’t wearing the goggles.

“Hey, how are you?” Takeru asked, drawing his attention away from that telling absence.

There was a gentle look in Takeru’s eyes had Iori wasn’t familiar with, but it made warmth bloom in his chest. “I’m...” He paused, glancing at the team again, taking them in with a sinking feeling.

Miyako’s eyes were sunken and dark. Although Hikari looked good, the absence of the goggles was alarming. And who even knew what Takeru had gotten himself into.

Hadn’t he already known that his team was doomed without him?

It wasn’t exactly a conscious thought that had him straightening, erasing weaknesses from the curve of his shoulders, the bow of his spine. It was simply necessary. He was the strong one, the one the team relied on, leaned on. They needed him to be tough. He could be. “I’m fine.”

He would be.

Takeru’s eyebrows slowly crept upwards; he looked far from convinced. Iori tried to hold his gaze, to convince him, but something in Takeru’s eyes had him wilting. He hadn’t lied, not really he didn’t think, but under that frank stare he felt like he had. “I… there’s pain, but I’m adapting.”

“That’s great,” Hikari said brightly. Iori felt himself flush at the honest joy and relief in her eyes. She leaned forward and settled her hand on his, patting gently. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

He nodded. “Kido-san says I’m healing fine and that I shouldn’t expect any problems as long as I don’t push myself too hard.”

The disbelief eased from Takeru’s expression entirely. “That’s wonderful.” Takeru laughed, a little shakily, and Iori watched tight lines appear at the edges of his smile. Iori winced, knowing he was the cause and that there was little he could do to ease it. The knowledge sat uncomfortably in his chest, after so long of being the one who shored them up. “You really had us worried,” Takeru continued, “Nice to see you awake.”

Iori bowed his head beneath the guilt creeping in. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. It felt impossible to support the team from his bed. “It’s going to be a while before I can rejoin you. Before I can help.”

There was a long pause where no one said anything. The digimon stopped in their play to look up at him. Iori watched the rest of his team share looks, apparently not sure what they should say in response. 

After a second, Takeru shifted about awkwardly. “That’s…” Takeru said and he looked severely uncomfortable. “That’s _nice_ , Iori-kun, but you should take your time, really. No one’s going to blame you.”

“But Motomiya-” Iori protested, more power and anger behind the words than he meant. He cut himself off immediately as he realized it. 

Still, the others drew back a bit in surprise and Takeru’s eyebrows shot back up. Takeru and Hikari shared another look, this time one of clear concern. 

Iori wilted a little. “Three people isn’t enough,” he said finally, trying to keep his words measured. “I don’t like being stuck here while you’re all fighting.”

Hikari’s expression went very gentle, which eased some of the uncomfortable feeling in his chest. “Don’t worry about that,” she said, all warmth and affection, “You just worry about getting better, okay?”

He nodded, though he didn’t like it.

“Hey,” Miyako said. Her voice was rough and thin, her smile a match, but she looked like she was trying. “If it makes you feel better, Takeru-kun beat the shit out of Motomiya for you.”

It didn’t make him feel better. It made him feel the opposite of better. Iori snapped his attention to Takeru, aware his eyes were going wide. “What?” he asked, and his voice was sharp, spiking higher with his anxiety. 

Takeru had fought Motomiya. _Takeru had fought Motomiya_.

Takeru didn’t seem to notice his mounting anxiety. He shrugged, his smile wholly smug. “It was nothing. Didn’t even get hurt myself.” 

That was enough to ease the majority of Iori’s worry; Takeru was clearly so unconcerned that there was no way it had gone bad for him. Calmer, he could look Takeru over; the damage to his hand seemed to be the only injury he’d gotten, which was odd. In a fistfight, Motomiya should have had a clear win, which he apparently hadn’t. Also weird, Takeru’s own smugness. It seemed entirely out of character for him, as did the fact he was in a fist fight at all. 

“Thank you,” he said. He flushed immediately, aware that his bewilderment was obvious in his voice.

Takeru just laughed. “It’s fine.” Then, with a little more force and a lot more fury than Iori was expecting, “He had it coming.”

“He let you win,” Iori pointed out, because no other option made sense to him. Takeru wasn’t exactly someone given to fighting, so there was no way he’d have the skill to actually take down Motomiya.

Takeru’s face immediately twisted up in distaste. “I, I mean, _I know that_ ,” he said, making random, furious motions with his hands. Despite body language and facial expression, his tone was warm, richly amused and exasperated. “But you didn’t have to point it out. Let me have this.”

Iori couldn’t help his smile at the antics, amusement easing the last of his worry. Takeru grinned at him widely in response, the exaggerated annoyance fading away. Iori slanted a look over at Hikari, took in again the softer set of her face, the relaxed stress lines. He didn’t really want to take that away, but he needed to know. “Has there been any kind of reprisal?” he asked.

Thankfully, Hikari remained relaxed. She shook her head, still smiling. “There hasn’t been anything like that. In fact-” Here she paused and finally lost her smile. In its place was a thoughtful look. “The whole Empire’s been very quiet lately.”

“Quiet?” Iori echoed. He didn’t bother to hide the suspicion in his voice.

Hikari nodded. “They haven’t made any more big moves lately. Not in response to the fight, or to the city. Or, well, they actually haven’t made any moves at all. They haven’t even made a territory push.”

“Do you think they’re planning something?” he asked.

“I wouldn’t put it past them. But it could be something else. It’s hard to say,” Hikari said.

“We’re not exactly going to push it now either,” Takeru added.

Hikari nodded in agreement. “The city is stabilizing quickly and we’re helping where we can. But mostly we’ve been taking it slow, catching our breath. No need to push ourselves when we’re already one short.”

“The situation probably won’t hold forever. Or even long enough for you to come back. But, well, right now, we’re not going to look a gift horse in the mouth,” Takeru added, utterly sensible.

Iori breathed out, something deep in his chest unknotting. His team wasn’t in danger; the Empire wasn’t pushing back with full strength. Motomiya hadn’t touched them. They were fine; he didn’t have to worry.

Ichijouji and Motomiya were probably up to something, quiet as they were, but that was a worry for another day.

His shoulders dropped with the weight of his relief; he couldn’t help bowing his head with a quiet sigh.

“Iori-kun?” Hikari asked, concern clear in her voice. Iori looked back at her and tried not to squirm when he saw how closely she was watching him. “You look really tired.”

Iori wanted to protest, only the words made him realize that was he was, actually, exhausted. Now that the worry for his team was assured, the tension began to ease away, until tiredness could start dragging him down again. Frustration filled him at the idea of having another nap. He was sick of sleeping all the time, despite how necessary he knew it was.

“We should leave you to rest,” Hikari said. Her voice was gentle but the cut of her eyes to her teammates made it clear it wasn’t a suggestion. Iori smiled a little, unable to help it. “We’ll be back later. We’ll keep you informed on how everything is going,” Hikari promised and there was a look in her eye that made him wonder if someone had been telling her how often he’d asked after them.

“Thank you,” he said.

Hikari smiled, gently patted his hand again, and stood. “Feel better, okay?” she said before she left.

Takeru began to rise as well, then paused. He looked back at Iori, examining him closely. Iori fought not to squirm, instead holding Takeru’s eyes steadily. After a second, Takeru’s expression broke into something soft and compassionate. “How are you doing? I mean, how are you handling everything?”

“I’m fine,” Iori said.

Takeru didn’t frown, but his expression went quietly sad. “Really?” he asked. 

Iori frowned at him, not wholly sure what Takeru was aking. The pain was bad but he could handle it and the exhaustion was nothing more than frustrating.

Takeru sighed, glancing away, and scrubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “It’s just, you’ve been, you haven’t been acting like yourself.” Patamon, now safely back atop Takeru’s hat, nodded hurriedly in agreement.

“Have I?” he asked. He wasn’t sure; maybe a bit sharper than he’d meant to be at points, but still. “It’s… it’s just the pain.”

Takeru’s expression became even softer, if possible. “Iori-kun, you…” He paused, shook his head, before looking back up with a tense smile. “If you’re sure. You can come to me if you want to talk. Any time, promise.”

Iori nodded, watched Takeru stand. Takeru didn’t look very happy, but he didn’t hesitate before clapping a hand on Iori’s shoulder. “I’ll see you later,” Takeru said and walked away.

Iori looked towards the last person in the room with him and felt his stomach drop. Miyako watched him with huge eyes, hands twisting over themselves. Iori realized, with a flood of concern, that Miyako had said maybe two things the whole visit. “Miyako-san? Are you okay?”

Miyako openen her mouth as if to say something, then paused, her eyes flickering all over him. After a second, she closed her mouth and instead offered a weak, wobbly smile. “Don’t worry about me, Iori-kun. You just focus on getting better.”

“Miyako-san,” Iori tried, because it was so obvious something was wrong. All he wanted was to help, but he wasn’t sure what to do. He wasn’t sure how to convince Miyako she could lean on him, still, despite what had happened.

She didn’t let him get very far. Miyako leaned forward, settled a hand on his shoulder to brace herself, and pressed a quick kiss to his forehead. She drew back, still with that unsteady smile. “I’ll see you later,” she said. Before Iori could say anything, she stood up. She waved at him and walked out, Hawkmon following.

Iori wished he could follow after, but merely getting to his feet right now was an ordeal. Miyako would be halfway to the Gate before he managed to get out of the room and running after her certainly wasn’t an option. He sighed and slumped back onto the futon.

He looked down at Upamon. “What do you think?” he asked.

Upamon didn’t need clarification. He shrugged, looking uncomfortable as he admitted, “She was really upset when we found you.”

_Oh_. Oh, Iori hadn’t even considered who would have found him. Cold settled into his bones at the idea of Miyako having to be the one to find him with Digmon. Surely any of the team finding him would have been horrifying, but Miyako always seemed to feel everything so sharply, so fully. 

He wasn’t sure what he could do to help Miyako except to continue on. To prove that he was fine, that he could stand strong. That he could still support the team, that they could still lean on him.

Iori sighed and laid back down. He closed his eyes and, despite his annoyance, let himself drift off again.

*****

Iori woke up eventually to a sweet smell and soft humming. Iori turned his head, looking around, checking the room for changes. Everyone was always moving in and out while he slept, checking in on him when they could between demands in the human world.

Upamon was sleeping undisturbed next to his head, a small bundle of warmth that helped keep the nightmares at bay. Upamon had taken to sleeping almost as much as he did; he claimed he was feeling stronger and that in a few days he’d be able to digivolve to Armadimon again. Everyone seemed to be taking that as a great sign of Iori’s own health. Iori had felt too bad about worrying everyone to admit he mostly still just felt tired.

He could hear shuffling in the room as well as humming. He turned his head, looking around. There were flowers everywhere. They were tucked into the corners of the room, out of the way, on the tables and shelves. Strange looking flowers, with curling petals and odd patterns and stripes. Digital World flowers.

Koushiro was arranging a vase of flowers, humming to himself. There was a grouping of similar vases near his feet, like he hadn’t decided where to put them yet.

Iori puzzles at him for a long moment, not sure what to make of Koushiro placing flowers of all things. “Koushiro-san?” he called.

Koushiro jolted in surprise then turned to look at him. Koushiro didn’t say anything, simply stared at Iori with slowly widening eyes. He didn’t have quite the same devastated look everyone else had been giving him, which was something. Still, Iori didn’t think he’d ever seen Koushiro look that openly emotional. Koushiro kept staring at him, stunned, looking vulnerable, until Iori started to feel uncomfortable.

Iori slowly began to push himself up into a sitting position. That snapped Koushiro out of his daze; he left the flowers be and hurried to Iori’s side. “Here, let me,” Koushiro said, hands helping him up.

Iori leaned into the help, though he didn’t need it as much as he had when he’d first woken up. Still, he felt grateful; any help took off so much strain. “Thank you,” he said. He was able to sit up without losing his breath now; the knowledge curled warm and satisfied in his chest. 

Koushiro sat back, smiling a little; he didn’t look devastated but he did have that overly grateful, bordering on awed, expression. Iori hoped he didn’t start crying like some of the others had. Iori wasn’t sure what he’d do if Koushiro of all people started crying. Koushiro didn’t, thankfully, and after a second shook off the look. “It’s good to see you up,” Koushiro said.

“I understand I’ve given everyone quite the scare,” Iori said, smiling back at him.

Koushiro ducked his head with a sheepish expression. “I suspect you’ve been told that a lot.”

Iori shrugged, watching Koushiro’s smile twitch wider.

“Well, either way, it’s true,” Koushiro said, “Besides, I hear congratulations are in order. You’re supposed to be going home soon.”

“I’ve heard that too. I can’t wait,” Iori said. He’d gotten used to the room, to Gennai, but he’d still feel better at home. At least in the human world, he knew he’d be safe from the Empire. There wasn’t a chance of Ichijouji invading while he was vulnerable. “Jou-san didn’t want me going home until I could move about without tiring easily. It gets easier every time I wake up.”

“That’s good,” Koushiro said, “Both your mother and grandfather work, don’t they? I suppose Jou-san wanted you here until you could take care of yourself. At least here, Gennai can watch over you.”

“That makes sense,” Iori agreed. He paused, glancing around the room again, still a little confused. “Um, Koushiro-san? The flowers?”

“Oh, yeah,” Koushiro glanced over at the flowers nearest them, a set shaped like tulips with yellow and black pinstripes. “They’re gifts.”

“Gifts? From you?” 

“Ah, no,” Koushiro said, regaining that sheepish look, waving away the assumption. “They’re from the digimon in the city.”

“Full Metal City?” he asked, though he doubted it could be anywhere else. Still, the digimon there were a suspicious bunch. They hadn’t struck him as the kind to being giving flowers.

Koushiro nodded though and explained, “I’ve been keeping myself busy helping out at the city, organizing the work between the Chosen and them. They’re, uh, they’re really thankful to you. You saved a lot of digimon at the gates and they appreciate it. They asked what an appropriate response would be in light of your injury. I told them flowers but, uh, they kind of overdid it, I suppose.”

Iori looked around at all the flowers again, feeling stunned. “They’re all…”

“From the city. I think the rest of us are still suspect, but your actions, and getting hurt so bad so soon after, well, you’re pretty well liked right now,” Koushiro said and a wry smile crossed his face. He didn’t look wholly comfortable when he added, “You’re a war hero now, I suppose. Congratulations.”

Iori frowned, turning the words over in his head. He appreciated the flowers, and knowing he’d made that much of an impression made him feel warm, but he wasn’t sure the idea of _war hero_ sat well with him.

Some of his unease must have shown on his face because Koushiro made a waving motion with his hand, smile straightening back into reassuring. “Don’t worry about it. Just, they’re really thankful and you have an open invitation to the city. You can drop by whenever you like.”

“Oh,” Iori said. The more he thought about it, the more his unease began to disappear, replaced with a warmth that filled every corner of his chest. He ducked his head with a grin, the warmth growing until he wanted to squirm. “That’s… I suppose I wouldn’t mind going back. Actually see the city.”

Koushiro nodded in response, everything about him going loose and soft at Iori’s obvious excitement.

Iori paused, a stray thought pulling him up short. “How would I get in? Surely it can’t be safe for them to be opening the gates just to let me in.”

“Yeah, the gates have been sealed permanently. You’ll have to take the tunnels in.”

Iori went cold. _You’ll have to take the tunnels_. Iori missed the rest of what Koushiro said, consumed with the idea, heart pounding. He’d have to go through the tunnels. Sweat broke out along the back of his neck. He’d have to take the tunnels-

_Shaking, the walls were shaking, the terrible sound of rock grinding on rock, of Motomiya’s heavy footsteps, of the hum of the sword._

_“What was that?”_

_“That would be the ceiling.”_

_-_ A hand landed on his arm.

Iori flinched back hard enough he almost toppled over, barely choking back a startled yell. He was panting heavily and it took a second to make his eyes focus. Koushiro. It was just Koushiro. Of course. It wasn’t- it wasn’t-

Of course it wasn’t Motomiya. Why would it be?

“Iori-kun?” Koushiro asked in a loud, worried voice. “Are you okay? You’re breathing really hard. Should I call Jou-san?”

Iori shook his head rapidly. He was trying to get his breath back under control but no matter how deep he breathed it didn’t feel like enough. His chest ached. “I’m… I’m fine,” he managed, aware of how his voice came out thin, wheezy.

Koushiro looked incredibly unconvinced. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. It… happens sometimes,” he said, because that was technically true. And it would pass eventually. It was just… the others had to be able to rely on him. They couldn’t if they knew he kept having panic attacks.

Koushiro sighed, not looking happy. He didn’t say anything, didn’t move either, merely waited patiently as Iori’s breath evened out. Iori appreciated that; he hoped that some of that read in his expression. Maybe it did, or maybe his breathing finally reached an acceptable level, because Koushiro’s expression softened.

When he could breathe easy and his chest didn’t hurt anymore, he said, “I’m alright.”

Koushiro nodded. “Okay. You know, if you need anything, you can come to me.”

“I know,” Iori said. He gave a valiant effort to smile, but wasn’t sure how it came out. “But I really am fine.”

“Yeah, I got that,” Koushiro said. He went to say something but was interrupted by the alarm on his phone going off. Koushiro sighed and closed his eyes.

“If you have somewhere to be, you should go,” Iori said.

“Yeah.” Koushiro slowly pushed himself to his feet and smiled. “Feel better soon. And, uh, enjoy the flowers.

Iori nodded, smiling, and watched Koushiro leave. 

*****

Iori returned home with a family member at each shoulder and carrying a small vase, into which he’d placed his favorite of the Digital World flowers. His grandfather kept one hand on his shoulder as they walked up, helping to support him in case he stumbled. Iori was proud to say he didn’t really need it; he’d recovered enough that he was only a little winded through the walk.

Iori leaned against his grandfather as his mother began unlocking the door. A small bag of the clothes he’d worn while he recovered was nestled in the crook of her elbow. He glanced down at it when he saw movement and watched as Upamon cautiously poked his head out of the bag. Upamon glanced around the hallway quickly before looking over at him.

Iori smiled at his partner and raised a finger to his lips. Upamon grinned back and ducked back down into the bag. 

“Here we go,” his mother said, opening the door. She leaned over so she could press a kiss to his forehead. “Welcome home.”

Iori gave her a smile as well and stepped inside. Tension he hadn’t even been aware of before leaked out of his shoulders as soon as he stepped through the door. It felt good to be home. 

Of course, they could have just taken a Gate to straight inside the apartment. However, in order to cover the time he was in the Digital World, unable to go to school or even make an appearance at home, the others had spread the idea he was at the hospital. Iori hadn’t asked for details; he just knew that Koushiro had helped him get excused from school and everyone had created rumors of him being sick and that some of it might have not been strictly legal. Iori was really pretending not to know.

Coming home through the front door just better supported that lie.

“We rearranged some things,” his mother said, coming through behind him. She gently put his bag on the ground and pulled back the front flap, allowing Upamon to jump out. “Kido-san suggested them, so it would be easier for you to move around.”

Iori looked around the apartment. Most of the furniture had been moved about, some pushed closer together, others further away so there was a wider walking space. There was a different couch as well. “You didn’t have to do this,” he said.

“It was no problem,” his grandfather said, “Besides, we were able to make some changes for Upamon as well.”

“Yeah?” he asked.

“I can open the refrigerator now!” Upamon said brightly. 

Iori smiled down at him, amused by the happy little bounces Upamon made. He turned back to look at his family. “Thank you.”

“It’s no problem. By the way, Miyako-chan and Takaishi-kun said that if you need any help, you can call them,” his mother said, “No matter when or with what.”

Iori nodded in acknowledgement. He walked over to the kitchen and set his vase of multi-colored flowers on the counter. There was a fruit basket already there, the handle wrapped in a bow and a brightly colored card tucked between the fruit. He picked up the card and opened it. It was a get well soon card, signed by all the Inoue’s. His smile twitched wider as he replaced the card.

“Why don’t you go lay down?” his mother suggested, picking up his bag of clothes again. 

“I’m not that tired,” he said. He was feeling pretty good; a tired ache spread out from his stomach, but he didn’t feel like he needed to sleep. 

“Watch TV with me?” his grandfather suggested, waving him towards the couch. Sitting down sounded phenomenal.

He followed his grandfather towards the couch and sat down heavily, letting out a sigh of relief. Upamon didn’t hesitate at all before bouncing over and hopping into his lap. Iori placed one hand on Upamon’s head, rubbing with his thumbs.

His grandfather sat down next to him and turned on the TV; he didn’t say anything, but when Iori leaned into him, he wrapped his arm around him. 

Despite not being tired, Iori closed his eyes and let himself drift. He felt warm, nestled between his grandfather and Upamon, and the familiar sounds of home banished the anxiety of being so closed in. It was safe here, which wasn’t a feeling he’d had a lot of lately.

He lost track of time, not quite asleep, but close enough he probably appeared so.

Iori was awoken by the sound of the doorbell. He lifted his head from his grandfather’s shoulder, blinking blearily in the direction of the door. The sound of Hikari’s voice woke him up even more and he pushed himself up straight. His grandfather, noting his distraction, turned off the TV and stood. “I’ll let you two talk,” he said. 

“Thank you,” Iori said.

His grandfather smiled as he walked away. 

“Ah, Hikari-chan,” he could hear his mother saying, “You look so good!”

“Oh, thank you, Hida-san. I appreciate it,” Hikari said.

They walked into view. Hikari did look much better than she had in recent months, even better than she had during her visits to Gennai’s. 

She still wasn’t wearing her goggles.

Iori carefully picked Upamon up and set him down on the couch next to him. Despite the carefulness of his movement, Upamon still started awake. Iori ignored his partner for the moment, instead pushing himself slowly to his feet.

“You didn’t have to,” Hikari said as soon as she saw him standing. She still had the dark, sad eyes he was used to, the ones that gave the impression of someone carrying a heavy weight for a long time. The eyes that made his chest hurt sympathetically.

“It’s no problem,” he assured.

Hikari watched him with concern for a second, but standing was getting easy enough that most of her worry melted away quickly. “Well, it’s good to see you up and about.”

“It’s good to be home,” he agreed. He couldn’t help the quick flick of his eyes down to her neck, checking again the absence of her goggles. He looked back up in time to see her smile dimming, showing that she’d caught that little shift of attention. 

He’d promised his mother he’d tell them everything that had to do with the war. But at the same time, it felt like he was betraying Hikari in a way, to so openly discuss her weaknesses in front of others.

Iori looked over at his mother. “Can we talk alone?” he asked, “I promise, afterwards.”

His mother’s eyes were understanding as she looked between him and Hikari. “Of course.”

There was a pause as they waited for his mother to leave. Then Hikari looked over at him. “Afterwards?”

“There’s going to be rules, from now on, if I want to keep fighting. One is that I tell everything that’s happening.”

“I see,” Hikari said.

“It’s nice, actually. Having someone who’s… outside the situation to talk to.”

“I’m glad,” she said. She motioned towards the couch. “May I?”

“Of course,” he agreed, sitting back down.

Hikari sat down next to him. Upamon immediately leapt into her lap. “Hikari!”

Hikari allowed it with nothing more than an amused sound. “Hello,” she greeted, “It’s good to see you too.”

Upamon burrowed down into her arms, purring. 

Hikari looked back at him, looking him up and down. “You look good,” she said.

“As do you.”

“Everyone keeps saying that,” she said, with a small huff that was equal parts amused and exasperated. 

“It’s true.”

“I just got a little sleep,” she protested. Then she shook her head. “Nevermind that. I promised I’d tell you what the team was doing.”

Iori straightened, turning to face her more. “Has something happened?”

“Nothing major,” Hikari assured, “Primarily, we’re still dealing with the aftermath from that last battle. We’re working with the city to stabilize the surrounding area. Taking down the nearby towers, of course, but we’re also destroying other Empire facilities and moving supplies about. Helping digimon who want to fight get to the city. 

“We haven’t quite broken the Empire’s hold on the area yet. The city’s still surrounded. But the Empire’s territory that blocks off the city from the free areas, that’s thinning quickly. It won’t be long before we break through, push that whole line back past the city. And with the tunnels, digimon can move quickly through the whole area. What Imperial slaves are around, they usually can’t find our people.”

Hikari paused; her eyes narrowed and a concerned, suspicious look crossed her face. “The Empire hasn’t really… responded yet. They’re still being quiet.”

“They haven’t made any move?” Iori asked and felt his own worry spike. The Empire had to be planning something big, to be quiet for so long, to be willing to lose so much ground without much of a fight.

Hikari nodded. “It’s… they’re not _still_ , anymore. They’re expanding again. But it’s not at the rate it was before. And, they aren’t pushing the city the way they should be. The way they _need_ to be if they don’t want to lose the whole area. That’s going to happen _soon_ and there’s… nothing. Everyone’s beginning to grow… concerned.” 

“Yeah. I can understand that,” Iori said, “Any ideas what they could be planning?”

“No.” Hikari shook her head. “Well, I mean, I suppose it could have something to do with Daisuke’s search. But we still don’t know much about that. Koushiro-san and Miyako-chan are looking into it, but they both have other things to be focused on. So it's going slowly.”

“I see.” He sighed and sat back fully. “I don’t like this.”

“No one does,” Hikari agreed, “But there’s not much we can do. We don’t know what they’re doing and, asides from our search into what Daisuke’s doing, the most we can do is continue taking down towers.”

Iori made a hum of understanding. After a second, he glanced back over at her and asked, “Daisuke?”

Hikari looked back at him in confusion.

“You dropped the kun,” Iori pointed out.

Hikari looked away with sigh. “Yeah, I guess,” she said softly, “I don’t want to call him Daisuke-kun anymore, because, those were better times, you know? But at the same time, using Motomiya, it’s too impersonal. I understand why the others use it, but it feels like I’m just, ignoring all the history. Doing so, it just feels like it would be wrong. So, just Daisuke it is.”

Iori made another sound of understanding. 

There was a pause again, then Hikari sighed and slanted him a look. “You can just ask you know,” she said softly.

Iori hummed. Still, he hesitated, watching Hikari; as good as she looked, he didn’t want to upset her, to potentially send her down spiraling again. She held his gaze and beneath the sorrow that never quite went away anymore was a steel that was immensely reassuring. “Are you still planning to lead the team?” he asked softly.

Hikari made to say something, then paused, sighed. She waited a moment, clearly thinking over her words. Iori waited patiently, watched the half-distracted, nervous movement of her fingers.

“I… I don’t know,” Hikari said finally, “After everything that happened, I think I need to take a step back. Everything escalated so fast. I never really, had the time to learn how to do this. I just, blundered through. And, I never figured out how to handle being leader, the stress of it all.”

“I thought you did alright,” Iori said.

Hikari laughed, smile sliding back into existence. “I know,” she said, warm with affection and appreciation. “Everyone keeps telling me I’m good at it. But, I don’t think it's good for me. It almost destroyed me. I can admit that. And, I need to take a step back and, figure out if I can do this. I need to find ways to handle it, healthily.”

Hikari sighed out again and admitted, in a quiet, watery voice, “If I can’t, I’m going to stop. I’m sure someone else on the team could do it, with a little help. I just, I can’t go through that again. I won’t.”

“I understand,” Iori said.

“I’m sorry.”

Iori frowned over at her. “For what?”

Hikari shrugged. “You always believed in me. I suppose it feels kind of like I’m letting you down, if I quit.”

“No,” Iori said immediately, with enough force Hikari started. “No, it’s not like that all. I understand completely. Don’t apologize for taking care of yourself.”

“Thank you,” Hikari said, whole expression going soft.

Iori smiled at her, his own chest warming. “It’s no problem. I just... want to help.”

“You do,” Hikari assured.

“May I, offer some advice?” Iori asked hesitantly.

It earned him a quiet, friendly laugh. “Of course.”

“I noticed, you have this terrible habit,” Iori said, “You, focus really intensely, on the things that have gone wrong. On the mistakes. So you forget just how much good you’ve managed to do. We’ve accomplished some great things.”

“Yeah? Like what?” Hikari asked, but it wasn’t in the same tone as their last talk. This was brighter, happier, almost teasing.

“Well, we’re all still alive,” he said, buoyed by the light tone, “I’d say that’s a win.”

Hikari laughed a little, grinning and nodding. “Yeah. There’s that.”

They fell into a silence, one bright and easy and comfortable. Iori thought for a second before tentatively asking, “I’m not a big gamer, but, would you like to stay, play something?”

“I would like that,” Hikari agreed, nodding, lighting up from within. Iori couldn’t help but grin back at her, pleased that he’d caused such a response.

*****

Hikari returned home, feeling lighter from the time with Iori, playing games, being a normal kid again for a while. She hadn’t quite realized before how much she missed it. Maybe she’d try to find time for such things moving forward; it was just so nice to be with her team and not be talking about the war.

And seeing Iori moving about with relative ease soothed some of the heart ache.

Taichi was in their bedroom, sitting on the bed. His shoulders were slumped forward, his head bowed. Taichi had been weighed down the past few days, even more than he had been before, but he’d also lost the helpless look in his eyes; Hikari wasn’t sure if it was a change for the better or not.

He was holding the goggles in his hands, running his thumbs over the lens.

Hikari paused in the door only briefly before stepping inside. “I’m home,” she said.

Laying on the bed next to Taichi, Plotmon slept curled up on Hikari’s pillow. One floppy ear twitched at her voice, but she didn’t wake up.

Taichi looked up at her and then just kept looking. For several long moments, Taichi simply stared at her, looking her up and down. Hikari let him, too confused, and a little uncomfortable, to protest. It wasn’t until Taichi bowed his head with a sigh that she found her voice. She wasn’t sure why, but she felt guilty, like maybe she’d disappointed him somewhere along the line. “Taichi-”

Taichi cut her off, speaking in a quiet voice, head still bowed, “I’m sorry.”

Hikari frowned at him, walking forward, bending so she could try to see his face. “Sorry? For what?”

“For letting you down,” Taichi said. Hikari’s protest choked off by her surprise, her sheer disbelief. “I’ve been so caught up in my own pain over Daisuke that I didn’t see the pain he’s been causing you. You’ve been suffering, and I’ve been too absorbed with myself to help.”

“That’s not true,” Hikari protested.

“Yes, it is,” Taichi said. It wasn’t forceful, just bland, a statement of fact that was hard to argue with. Hikari’s frown deepened as Taichi looked back up at her, his eyes dark and serious. “You needed help and I abandoned you.”

“That’s a rather strong word,” she said softly, “We were all in pain, Taichi. I don’t blame you.”

“I do,” Taichi said, so quiet she didn’t think she was supposed to hear. Taichi stood slowly, having to brace himself as he did so. He walked towards her, still carrying the goggles loosely in one hand, and stopped just in front of her. He stared down at her, solemn and serious and unlike himself. “I promised I’d help you and I didn’t. I’m sorry. But I’m going to do better. Whatever you need of me, you have it. I’m here. I swear it.”

“Taichi,” Hikari said softly. Her chest felt warm and tight in a good way. Taichi’s expression eased from overly serious to the same warm, loving one that had always made her feel safe. 

It was on the tip of her tongue to thank him and then dismiss the whole thing. To say she was just fine now. For so long she’d been attempting to handle things on her own, it had become habit. To smile and say she was fine, even when it felt like all it would take was a raised voice to make her cry. She’d tried so hard to be strong around others, to not let them see how weak she felt even when it was obvious. She’d thought she’d had to, for the team.

Look where that had gotten her.

She’d fallen apart on her own. She tried, and she couldn’t do it. Trying to keep everything to herself, hadn’t that just made everything so much worse? It certainly hadn’t helped, she could say that.

Well, she wanted to make a change, to attempt to find new ways to lead, so that maybe she could do it without breaking. Maybe it was time to try reaching out, leaning on others. Letting them support her, carry some of the weight, ease some of her worst thoughts. She could do that; what was the point of pride now? 

If she could lead the team well, she didn’t mind admitting to a little weakness.

“Thank you,” she said, “I’ll take you up on it. I promise.”

Taichi smiled at her, soft and warm and she’d give anything to take away the sadness in his expression. “Look at you,” he said, voice soft as he looked down at him. 

Hikari felt a flush creeping up the back of her neck. “What?” she asked.

Taichi shook his head a little, still with that look on his face. He held up the hand holding the goggles.

Hikari bit back a flinch. She really didn’t want to disappoint him, especially when he was looking at her like that. But she wasn’t sure she could wear those yet. Looking at them didn’t hurt anymore, but she still didn’t feel ready. “I can’t…”

“I know, it’s not about that,” Taichi said, all gentle. She relaxed under the gentle set of his expression, unable to stay tense when she felt safe with him. The trepidation melted away. So she really wasn’t prepared for Taichi shoving the goggles onto her head. It wasn’t a rough motion, just quick, the goggles left to rest against her forehead as they once had on Taichi’s. Hikari was left blinking up at him, too confused and warmed through to really feel the weight the goggles brought with them.

Taichi’s smile twitched upwards into a grin as he looked at her. It was only for a second, then Taichi’s expression folded completely. Before she could react, Taichi leaned forward and pulled her into a hug. There was a gentle hand on the back of her head, tucking her in close, her chin over Taichi’s shoulder. She could feel the long, shuddery breath Taichi took. “I don’t care what his crest is,” Taichi said lowly in her ear, “You’re my successor. And I am so proud of you.”

Hikari’s eyes burned suddenly, her own breath sticking in her throat. “I…”

“I mean it. You’ve grown so much. I’m proud of you.”

She hugged him back tightly, burying her face further into Taichi’s shoulder. They stood there for a long time, holding each other.

Eventually Taichi drew back. He was crying, just a little, his eyes overbright, smile still present though it wobbled. When he could look her full on again, his expression twisted and he snickered a little. “Okay, you look a little silly like that. I see why you don’t wear them there.”

“You’re ruining the moment,” she said, but she didn’t mind at all.

Taichi drew her in again, pressing a kiss to her forehead just above the goggles. “You’re okay?” he asked.

“I will be,” she assured. 

“Alright,” he said. He pulled back and wiped quickly at both eyes. “I’m glad. And, you don’t have to wear them. That’s not-”

“I know,” Hikari assured. It wasn't really about the goggles. It was about trust, about succession; her, over Daisuke.

“Ah, well,” Taichi paused, rubbed one hand over his face and eyes, wiping away the tears. Now that he’d said what he wanted to, he didn’t seem to know how to proceed. “I promised Sora that…”

“I get it,” she said, her own smile twitching up further in amusement, “Go, have fun. You deserve it.”

“I love you,” Taichi said, all warm and sweet. “I’ll see you later.”

Hikari made a sound of agreement and watched as he left. When she turned back around, Plotmon was watching her sleepily from the pillow. Hikari smiled at Plotmon. “Hey you,” she said brightly, more upbeat than she’d felt in a while. “How long have you been awake?”

“Not long,” Plotmon said, yawning widely. She stood up, shook herself all over. Hikari grinned even wider at the sight. “What’s going on?” Plotmon asked. Plotmon blinked over at her. “You’re wearing the goggles.”

“Yeah,” Hikari said. She walked over to the mirror, looking over herself. The goggles pressed against her forehead, a line of pressure she wasn’t familiar with and didn’t find very comfortable. And she did look a little silly, as the goggles had been so hastily shoved on her. Half her hair was pressed flat; a few strands stuck up at odd angles under the band. She laughed a little at the image and fingered the band pressed to the base of her skull.

It wasn’t that bad, in such a different spot from normal, even if the new weight on her forehead was weird.

“It’s nice,” Plotmon said cautiously.

Hikari made a noncommittal sound, still looking in the mirror. The goggles themselves had never been that bad; it had always been what they represented. The weight of leadership, of everyone’s expectations. Wearing them differently didn’t change that and the more she wore them, the more she could feel that weight returning, breaking through the warmth of Taichi’s words. And with the goggles placed where they were, they were almost like, like-

_Like a crown._

Hikari winced at the thought, at how much it sounded like Daisuke. At this point, it didn’t take much trying to picture his voice; it was wormed into her head.

Hikari sighed and pulled the goggles off. She put them down the desk and stared down at them. 

“Hikari?” Plotmon asked, all soft concern.

Hikari closed her eyes, deliberately called up the memory of Taichi saying he was proud of her until it drowned out Daisuke’s voice. She relaxed, a bit of the nausea leaving, until she could open her eyes again and look at the goggles. She tapped a finger against one of the lenses. “Not yet,” she said. The words didn’t feel like they before, like it was a shaky uncertainty that might not ever actually happen.

It felt more like a promise, like something that would happen. When she was ready. Not yet.

But someday.

*****

Miyako turned on the light on her desk, sighing a little with relief as the strain left her eyes. The rest of her room got even darker, but at least now she could see what she was working on. Poromon’s eyes were half-mast, watching her work from the corner of the desk. Miyako could hear her family moving about in the rest of the apartment, but she tuned them out.

She really just needed to finish this.

The desk was cluttered, currently, and no doubt her siblings would yell at her about it later. A map of the Digital World spanned almost the length of it; her own map that Koushiro had given her, not the one he and Hikari used, with more markers than she could keep track of. Translation notes for the Digimoji were stacked opposite where Poromon sat. She had all the notes from their investigation into Motomiya’s search spread out around her, marked up and color coded, not that the color coding was doing her much good.

The pictures everyone had taken of the various places were on her phone, next to her translation notes. But even when she could translate it, it felt like she just didn’t have the knowledge necessary to understand what she was looking at. Her head pounded and no matter how much she stared, tried to find commonalities, Motomiya’s movements made no sense.

It had been, originally, Koushiro’s project, Koushiro trying to piece together this madness. But, well, even Miyako knew that Koushiro had other things to worry about. He already had so much on his shoulders, what with being their primary link to the wider Digital World; he was the one who organized everything for them, kept track of their allies and the Empire and made sure the Chosen were effective. As effective as they could be. He didn’t also need to be worrying about what Motomiya was doing in his spare time when there was a full team of people to help.

Besides, Miyako needed to do this. She needed to do _something_.

Everyone else was suffering so much. Hikari and Iori and even Takeru, they all took on so much responsibility; even now, when it felt like everything was falling apart, they were still doing their best to continue on. They’d always been like that, trying to shoulder so much by themselves. She’d never been like that. Sure, she fought when asked and followed orders fine, but… she complained a lot, didn’t she? She’d always, leaned on others.

Everyone was trying so hard, and hurting so much, and she couldn’t fix that, she couldn’t help them. But she could take some of the burden. She could be useful. She could, she could make sure they didn’t have to try to carry her problems as well.

So, she took over the investigation in Motomiya’s search, let Koushiro refocus on the rest of his tasks. This, she could do.

At least she thought so. She just, had to find a starting point in the mess that was Motomiya’s movements. It couldn’t be as random and nonsensical as it seemed. Motomiya didn’t seem like the kind of person to waste time wandering around without a point. There was a reason he went to these places. It was just lost in the sheer amount of information she had.

There was a knock on the door to the room. It opened a second later.

Miyako looked up blearily, squinting through the change of light, and saw Mantarou poking his head through the door. Her older brother squinted back at her. 

“What the hell, Miyako? Aren’t your eyes bad enough?” he asked and flipped on the light switch for the ceiling fan light. 

Miyako ducked her head and started blinking rapidly as light flooded the room completely. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Poromon start full awake then freeze, trying to appear like a stuffed animal. “Thanks for the warning,” she muttered and turned away from him so she could focus on her work.

“Miyako~” Mantarou sang, drawing her name out terribly. “Come on, dinner’s nearly ready. You can finish that later.”

“I can finish it now,” she said back, even though the idea of finishing it at all seemed like a laughable idea considering where she was with it currently. Still, she couldn’t give up. She could do this if she focused.

She had to be able to do this. She wanted to be able to stand on her own, like everyone else.

“I haven’t seen you leave this room since you got home from school,” Mantarou said. There was worry in his voice but she didn’t look back to see what his expression looked like. Mantarou was flighty, not precisely given to focusing on one thing for very long. If she ignored him, he’d go find someone more entertaining to bother.

“I need to finish this.”

Mantarou didn’t say anything else, but she could hear the shift of his feet on the carpet. She glanced over her shoulder, hiding the look beneath the fall of her hair, and found him awkwardly shifting from foot to foot with an anxious expression. “Is this about Iori-kun?” he asked finally, “I can understand if you’re worried. But I heard everything at the hospital went great!”

_Hospital_. Miyako wasn’t sure if she wanted to laugh or throw up. What a brilliant little orderly web of lies Koushiro had crafted, with nothing more than his computer, some hacked files, and carefully planned word of mouth. She thought she understood a little, and more by the day, where the sweet little boy Motomiya had been had learned to lie so well.

“That’s not it,” she said. Though it was, in a way, and if she didn’t focus really hard on ignoring it, she could almost feel the blood on her hands. Iori had been so small and so still when she’d held him and she swore, she swore, she’d been able to feel him growing colder as she flew him to Gennai’s. 

She swallowed heavily, trying to chase away that phantom memory. Tried to remember: Iori, awake and warm and confused back at Gennai’s, with only the shakiest memory of what had happened. Iori, as fierce as ever, so ready to get back in the fight. Iori, finally home, safe and mostly sound.

Iori, anger simmering beneath the surface like she wasn’t used to, tired and worn and trying to hide it.

She could do this. If it helped him, she could do anything.

“Miyako,” Mantarou said again, “We’re worried about you.”

“I’m fine.”

“Liar,” Mantarou said harshly. Miyako paused, twitched, unused to that tone from him. “Momoe tells me you haven’t been sleeping.”

_Damnit Momoe_ , Miyako thought, but it was more exhausted than truly angry.

“Come on. Leave that alone, come have dinner with us, tell us what’s bothering you.”

“What if I don’t?” Miyako asked, and she might have been amused if she wasn’t feeling irritated. She just wanted to finish this. She wanted to help the team. She wanted to rip that smug smile off Motomiya’s face by stealing whatever he was after out from under him.

She could handle her problems on her own.

“…I’ll carry you,” Mantarou said, and despite the hesitation his voice was sure.

Miyako finally turned to look at him, her desk chair squeaking as she did so. Mantarou, older than her, almost finished with university, who did hockey as stress relief and it showed. He was taller and well-muscled and she knew from experience that was a lot more light-hearted than right now that he was capable of it.

He had nothing on Motomiya.

“Okay,” Miyako said and turned back around.

She heard the shift of feet over the carpet again, headed towards her. She didn’t turn around fully again, just tilted her head enough so the fall of her hair didn’t obscure her eyes, and stared her brother down. What kind of threat was he, really, when her nightmares were wars and burning buildings and she shared school space with someone trying to, at the least, maim her until she couldn’t fight back?

Mantarou wasn’t any threat at all.

She was fighting a war and he was nothing. He wanted to pick her up? She’d like to see him try.

She couldn’t be sure, really, how much of that showed in her expression, but Mantarou stumbled back suddenly, tripping over his own feet. 

“I want to be left alone,” she said and there was a ringing note of steel in her voice she didn’t recognize. 

Mantarou stared at her for a long moment. Then, swallowing visibly, he left the room and shut the door behind him. She could hear voices talk on the other side of the door, though she couldn’t make out what they said. But no one bothered her again, and that was all that mattered. 

Really, what could they do? What could they possibly understand about what she was going through? They couldn’t, and she wasn’t eager to attempt making them. 

“Miyako-san?” Poromon asked from the corner of the desk, finally unfreezing. “Are you okay?”

She wasn’t. Why did everyone keep asking her that? Of course she wasn’t. Her friend had been gutted by a sword and she’d been _useless_. 

But, well, everyone was suffering. Everyone was in pain right now. What right did she have to add to that, when the others were trying their hardest to be strong? If she admitted it, she’d just be another burden.

Besides, she wasn’t sure she’d manage to admit it and come out in one piece. The team didn’t need that.

Miyako breathed out, long and slow, and refocused on the work in front of her. “I’m fine. I just, I need to finish this.”

*****

The span of Imperial territory that still cut off the city from the rest of the unconquered Digital World was now measurable, from one side to the other, with the naked eye if you were flying. Still nothing to sneeze at, but compared to what it had been even two weeks ago, covering an entire expanse of desert, what was left was a bare fraction.

And still, the Empire did _nothing_.

Hikari was past being nervous about it. It was constantly at the back of her mind; she could never completely shake the thought that the Empire, that Ichijouji and Daisuke were still being a bit too quiet; that she had to be alert for the next attack. Hikari found herself watching the sky more often, keeping her ears peeled for the sound of wings. 

There was nothing, no sign of Daisuke in the Digital World, for all he slunk about around them in school like a shadow. Which just made the anxiety of waiting for him to make a move that much worse. The anxiety began to have drops of dread, of genuine fear, like she was expecting him to just drop down in the middle of a fight and kill them, the same way he had the digimon at the mines and the battle for the city.

She knew she wasn’t the only one beginning to get more than antsy about the quiet. Her team was visibly nervous every time they crossed into Empire territory these days. Miyako was jittery, tapping fingers and feet and frequent shifting. Takeru constantly had a pinched look to his face and he glanced up at the sky nearly as often as she did. The digimon too, both their partners and the ones in the city, all were growing beyond tense.

“Hikari,” Takeru called. Hikari turned back to him. Takeru watched her with concern, the tilt of his his head a question. There were tense lines around his eyes.

“It’s nothing,” she assured, because she knew this once he wasn’t asking after her but if she’d spotted a sign of the Empire showing life.

Takeru’s frown deepened instead of easing off. After a second, he sighed. Then he straightened, rolled his shoulders, and turned his attention back to the Imperial outpost beneath them. The defenses were crumbled; the tower lay in pieces. The former slaves were shuffling around in confusion, the familiar unsurety of location and lack of purpose when the Rings came off. Other digimon from the city, the ones who felt comfortable enough to work with the Chosen, were already moving in, having received the all clear signal. “Shall we finish this up?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Hikari agreed and gently pressed her knees into Nefertimon’s flank. They began to descend. Hikari let out her own sigh, trying to work out the knots in her back with how little she could stretch while flying. 

The battle with the slaves at the outpost hadn’t the fierceness, the heart-stopping quality of a battle with Daisuke and XV-mon, but it had still been physically demanding. Her hands hurt from gripping the edges of Nefertimon’s armor for stability and the muscles along her back and in her legs felt cramped. 

They’d been fighting too long today. Everyone felt the urge to push the boundaries as far as they could before the Empire attacked again. Still, all the anxiety in the world didn’t stave off fatigue, a lesson Hikari had learned the hard way. She’d have to call the day to a close after they finished with the aftermath here.

There wasn’t much left for them to do anyways, with the tower now down and most of the heavy fighting done. They’d help move some supplies to the city, but given the only way into the city right now was the tunnels, the team wasn’t very well suited for that job. 

They landed smoothly, but she saw Miyako stumble as she climbed off of Holsmon. Hikari winced in sympathy, already expecting the same to happen when she climbed off. As if sensing her watching, Miyako turned to look at her, eyes wide and pleading. Hikari nodded back at her, confirming wordlessly that this was the last fight.

Every member of her team, human and digimon alike, slumped in relief.

Despite that she’d technically taken a step back, that she no longer wore the goggles, she still led. She gave orders in battle, she had the last say in decisions for all she checked with the others. But like she’d told Iori, it felt like everyone was just, catching their breath. With the Empire so quiet, with Daisuke and Ichijouji a distant, barely there threat, it felt like they’d taken a step back to those first few weeks of the war. It felt, in a way, like they were restarting. She didn’t think she was the only one relearning where to put their feet.

She didn’t mind leading like that, trying to find out how before everything went bad again. It would, eventually; she just had to hope everyone was ready before that.

Hikari pried her fingers off the edge of Nefertimon’s armor with a hiss, imagining she could actually hear the bones crack. Then she jumped off, wavering briefly as her muscles stretched again. She placed a hand against Nefertimon to steady herself, muttering a quiet thank you.

Pain continued to flare up her right hand. She lifted her hand up to see, unable to help the groan of dismay and disgust and pain when she saw one of her fingernails had been ripped half-off. Blood was dripping in thin lines from the injury. “Damn,” she hissed, stomach swimming uneasily. She hated when that happened.

Takeru let out a little _oh_ of sympathy as he walked over to her. “That looks bad,” he said. He gave her a weary smile and dug into one pocket, pulling out a bandaid. “That’s why they made these though.”

Hikari held out the hand, wincing as Takeru carefully pressed the nail back into place and wrapped the bandage around it. Takeru’s own fingers were wrapped in bandaids; having to hold onto the armour chest plates as they did meant sometimes a nail caught and tore. Miyako and Iori were less prone to such injuries, but it still happened. Hikari currently had three fingers bandaged, though one was a cut.

“There. That’ll hold until we get home,” Takeru said. He patted the back of Hikari’s hand then moved so he was holding her hand up, their fingers splayed over each other. It showed off two of Takeru’s bandaids and her new one, the barely noticeable scars and peeling blisters, the last of the bruising around Takeru’s knuckles. “Look at us. We’re a mess,” he said in a soft, warm voice, all commiseration.

Hikari let out a quiet laugh. “Yeah, we are,” she agreed, not sure why it amused her, why she was left warmed through and happy. 

She pulled her hand back only to sling it over his shoulders, pulling him into a hug. She held out her other arm towards Miyako; Miyako immediately moved to her side. Miyako tucked herself down into the hug, wrapping an arm around her in return, and, despite their difference in height, Hikari ended up with her chin hooked over Miyako’s head. Her heart hurt with the difference in Miyako, the way she was still withdrawn into herself, so quiet. She pulled Miyako in closer, let them both lean back against Takeru. 

It was like Iori had said, right? They were all still alive, and that was a victory in itself. “But I think we’re doing alright.”

*****

Chikara returned home with his bokken under one arm, exhausted and weary and feeling more his age than ever. Teaching, while physically taxing, had never been as emotionally draining as it had been these past few days. Iori’s absence from practice weighed, heavy and obvious. Iori had never missed a practice, had been dedicated and serious about it from the beginning.

Iori’s absence hurt, made it impossible to even briefly forget how badly he’d been injured. At least now Iori was home; Chikara had the comfort of going home afterwards to see him safe, instead of having to wait for someone to take him to the Digital World.

Chikara put his things away and walked through the apartment with his footsteps as quiet as he could make them. Fumiko was sitting on the couch but her head was slumped forward in sleep. The TV was on. Upamon, resting comfortably in Fumiko’s lap, was watching it with wide eyes.

Chikara smiled to himself and walked forward. He wiggled his fingers at Upamon when he was noticed. Upamon smiled back at him, bright and bubbly; he squirmed about as if to return the greeting but didn’t say anything in consideration for Fumiko sleeping. Chikara’s smile widened into a grin.

Upamon was really a gift in the middle of the current hellscape. He was a sweet, joyful thing, one that was gentle and eager to please, like a child. His mere presence, as given to happiness as he was, had helped keep Fumiko’s spirits up while Iori had recovered. They’d certainly taken to each other well. And he doubted he could ask for a better partner for Iori. Iori had always been solemn, even as a child; happy, yes, but quiet about it, contained. Iori could use someone to remind him to be less serious, especially now.

Fumiko looked fine; a lot of the stress and sleeplessness of the past few days had eased away, leaving only the normal tiredness from work. He wasn’t the only one feeling better with Iori back home. He sighed out his own relief, feeling one more of the knots in his chest ease away. 

Some of them would probably never go away, not for as long as Iori carried around that _digivice_ thing. He knew that even if Iori came home one day and said the war was over, there was always the chance he’d be called back to fight some other enemy. There would always be the chance of Iori dying in a battle in another world Chikara couldn’t even get to on his own. It wasn’t something Chikara had been able to shake at all since he’d learned of the Digital World. 

He’d known, as soon as Yagami Yuuko called to tell them Iori was staying the night without them ever hearing from Iori himself, that something had gone terribly wrong. He hadn’t suspected how truly bad it had been.

At least the worst days were over. At least they weren’t still waiting for Iori to wake up. 

Chikara pulled a blanket off the back of the couch and slipped it carefully around Fumiko’s shoulders, wrapping up both her and Upamon. He walked away to the sound of Upamon’s pleased purring.

The door to Iori’s room was half-open; he pushed it open fully and entered. Iori was asleep on the bed, head turned away from the door, just missing the sunlight slanting through the window. The fall of his shirt revealed the bandages still wrapped around his stomach. 

There were textbooks on Iori’s desk, half-completed school work. Miyako brought it over for him every week, so that he wouldn’t fall too far behind while he recovered; though Iori had more than enough time, Chikara had found him powering through it every day. Iori, it seemed, was determined not to fall behind. 

In one corner of the desk was that vase of flowers, still not showing any signs of wilting despite the time that had gone by. Chikara would never tell Iori he hated them, but he did. How could he not, when he could never forget what they meant, what Iori had been called. _War hero_. Like Iori wasn’t barely a teenager. Words like that belonged to people decades older.

Chikara sighed and walked over to Iori, feeling every day his age. He sat down on the edge of the bed and just watched Iori sleep. It was a peaceful sleep right now, though he knew Iori was given to nightmares now. That was to be expected, Chikara supposed, however much it made him ache.

 

Chikara turned away, back to Iori, his chest twisted in pain. Iori was looking better, did every day. The pain was mostly gone from his face and Chikara knew he moved better all the time. Soon, Iori would be rejoining practice; probably too soon, because he insisted on being stubborn, because he was a dedicated boy and always had been.

Which was probably why, despite their protests, the clear hesitation of even his teammates on the matter, Iori was going to return to fighting in the Digital World. Because he was a serious, dedicated boy and not given to abandoning something, especially if he thought someone needed his help.

Chikara just had to try to pretend the thought didn’t make him panic. He wasn’t sure he could bury more family, more children.

Chikara knew there wouldn’t be any convincing Iori to change his mind about fighting. Especially after the stories Iori had told them, of the things Ichijouji and Motomiya had done, to digimon and the human team, to their former friends. Chikara had felt sick listening to it and known then, beyond any hope, that Iori wouldn’t be stopping. 

He sighed and reached out to brush at Iori’s hair. Even on top of the fear of the physical danger, there was… Iori had been different lately. Since waking up. 

He knew it wasn’t fair to expect Iori to be unchanged after what had happened. Of course Iori was different. Some of the changes Chikara had been expecting: that Iori was tense and on edge, almost all the time, like he never felt quite safe; that he was hyper aware of the area around him; that some of his energy was faded, and only half because recovering took up so much.

He hadn’t expected the way Iori carried himself sometimes, like he was a knife’s edge. The anger, that hadn’t been expected either, not as it was. Iori was so quick to anger now; not a shallow anger, or a constructive one, but one that burned long and deep and threatened violence. Not the kind of anger Chikara was used to from Iori. At least at it was a targeted anger, not one that would lash out at any random person. No, the anger only came out when someone mentioned Motomiya.

In its own way, the intense focus of the anger was more frightening than the opposite. If it was undirected, Chikara thought he could handle it, could sit Iori down and talk him through it. He wasn’t sure how to go about addressing the hate Iori had towards Motomiya, the way it seemed to burn him up inside.

(He wasn't sure he could, even if he knew how. Motomiya had nearly killed his grandson. Chikara kind of hated Motomiya himself.)

He wasn’t sure what to do, or how to help. It wasn’t just that Iori was angry too much of the time, battle-ready even at home, too sharp and too fierce; he kept acting as thought everything was alright. Chikara had never known Iori to lie, not even to himself. Yet it was so obvious something was wrong, he wasn’t sure why Iori wouldn’t just admit to it. But Iori didn’t and he got defensive when questioned too deeply, got wide-eyed and panicked. Chikara didn’t know how to address any of that.

Didn’t know how to help Iori get better when Iori didn’t seem like he was in a place where he could even admit something was wrong in the first place.

Chikara sighed heavily, feeling himself droop under the weight of all his thoughts.

A shift of weight on the bed behind him had him turning. Upamon watched him from the foot of the bed, eyes too sad and knowing for the small body or childish personality. “Hi,” Upamon greeted, keeping his voice soft, “You look really tired.”

Chikara closed his eyes briefly, before turning to face Upamon more. “I feel tired,” he admitted. There was something about those wide eyes that made it easier to say, when he’d never admit it to Fumiko or Iori.

Upamon was quiet for a minute, watching him intensely. Then that little face crumbled. “I don’t want him to go back either,” Upamon whispered, like it was a secret he was saying for the first time. Maybe it was. Maybe he’d never told Iori that.

“Really?” Chikara asked. He found himself reaching for Upamon again, gently patting him on the head.

Upamon nodded, sinking further into the bed. “I don’t mind going myself. I’m built for it, you know?” he said. Chikara didn’t point out that he didn’t know; he’d only ever seen this form and didn’t really understand what the others meant when they said he could change. “But Iori. He isn’t. I don’t want him to get hurt again.”

“Me either.”

“Why won’t he stop?” Upamon said, in a thick voice.

Chikara sighed and changed from patting to full on petting. Upamon didn’t seem to mind the change; Chikara still wasn’t quite clear on how animalistic these digimon were. “It’s in his nature. Even when he was little, after Hiroki died, he would take up all this responsibility so Fumiko-chan and I could have an easier time.”

“I like that about him,” Upamon said, “But I also really, really don’t.”

“I know. Me too.” Chikara went quiet for a second. It felt a little wrong to do so, but he still asked, “Do you think he’ll be able to face Motomiya again?” 

Because Motomiya infuriated Iori, but Chikara thought he scared him a little as well.

There was silence from Upamon, like maybe he felt the same way, like he was betraying a confidence. “I don’t know,” Upamon said finally, a in quiet voice, “He said he had an idea, but that was it.”

Chikara sighed again still caught not knowing how to help. “Thank you,” he said softly.

Upamon nodded, a miserable little puddle. 

Chikara ached to see it.to his feet. Well, at least this he could help. “I do feel better knowing he has you out there,” he said, and watched Upamon positively light up.

“Really?”

“Yes. I’m glad he has you.” Chikara stood slowly. “Now, let’s leave him be, alright?” 

He held out his hands. Upamon jumped into them willingly, snuggling into his chest. Chikara closed the door behind him as he left, holding Upamon to him.

*****

Hikari returned home with shopping bags held in the crook of her elbow, which she dropped onto the desk in her bedroom. Plotmon jumped up onto the desk to sniff curiously at the bags; Hikari paused to scratch at the fur around her collar in greeting. Then she returned to unpacking.

First came out the boxes of medical supplies: bandaids, gauze pads, different kinds of bandages, tape, rubbing alcohol; the things the first aid box was beginning to run out of. Then the two bottles of sunscreen lotion; aloe vera as well. Another compress. After the medical supplies was a box of chamomile tea. Then a new journal, small and cheap.

Hikari balled up the now empty grocery bags and left the room to throw them out. She came back with the first aid box and began repacking it with practiced movements. Plotmon watched her do so from her position on the desk. Once the supplies were all put in place, she carried the box back to the bathroom, the sunscreen and aloe vera balanced carefully on top to limit the amount of trips she was taking.

She returned to the bedroom again to see Plotmon sniffing curiously at the tea. She pulled back as Hikari picked it up, watching her with her head tilted. “Are we out of tea?” she asked curiously.

“Hm? Oh, no,” Hikari answered. She ducked out to the kitchen quickly, put the tea away, and returned. She collapsed into the desk chair. “It’s supposed to help me sleep, if things get bad again.”

She knew that the amount of sleep she’d gotten lately had helped ease the strain, especially when combined with how silent the Empire had gotten; had pulled her back from the terrible edge of the breakdown she’d been standing on for weeks. Looking back, it was easy to see how much damage the lack of sleep had caused. How it had taken her thoughts and twisted them into the worst versions of themselves; taken _I don’t think I can do this_ and made it _Everyone’s going to die and it's going to be my fault_. Had made those thoughts impossible to ignore until they were thunder in her head. She didn’t want to go back to that place, once things started getting hard again, once Daisuke started fighting again instead of avoiding them.

If she was going to keep doing this moving forward, she couldn’t afford to miss sleep. That much was obvious. Sleeping wouldn’t fix the thoughts entirely, but at least if she was well-rested she wouldn’t drown in them.

Hikari pulled the new journal closer to her, flipped it open, then stared blankly at the pages.

“What’s that for?” Plotmon asked, walking closer so Hikari could easily settle a hand on her head. 

“Iori said something, when I visited him. That I, have problems remembering what I’ve done right. That all I focus on are the mistakes. So, I thought, why not just write them down? That way, when I forget, I can just look at it.”

“That sounds like a great idea,” Plotmon said brightly. 

“Yeah. Now I ...just need to think of something,” Hikari said and ignored Plotmon’s small sigh. She scavenged for a working pen then bent to work.

The battle for Full Metal City was an obvious addition, for as little as she’d had to do with that success, for all she’d nearly ruined it. It was still a victory, one they’d just managed to squeak out. And it was a victory that was rapidly reshaping the entire area around the city.

From there, she wrote down _towers_ and placed a tallymark for every tower she remembered taking down. Koushiro would have a more accurate listing; she could double check with him later. Every mark was a battle won, a little more ground taken away from the Empire. After that, a tally mark list of all the factories and outposts.

Then she paused, before slowly penning out the names of every one of her teammates, human and digimon. After all, it was like Iori said: living was a victory. Every name listed was someone she hadn’t led to their death, was someone she’d managed to keep safe. 

A part of her mind couldn’t help but whisper that though the names were written down now, that didn’t protect them forever. There was always the chance she’d fuck up somewhere down the line again and her team wouldn’t get as lucky as Iori had. They could still die. Then she’d have to cross off those names, those victories. She’d have to stare at that loss for forever.

Hikari dropped the pen onto the desk and her head into her hands, trying to take deep breathes, her reasonably good mood broken. 

“Hikari?” Plotmon asked.

Hikari didn’t say anything in response. She swallowed heavily and did her best to bury the thought. They didn’t come as often as they had when she was at her worst, but they still occurred and there was nothing she could do to stop it. They just… slipped in, and then she’d thought them and there was no getting rid of them. Not permanently. They came back eventually. And the more she thought them, the more they affected her. Until it went from something she knew wasn’t true to something she almost believed. 

She could hear the front door opening, the sounds of someone shuffling around, but it wasn’t until the bedroom door opened that she lifted her head. Taichi walked in and though he was initially focused on his phone, all of his attention diverted to her as soon as he saw her. “Hey, wow, what's with that face? What’s wrong?” he asked, stuffing his phone in his pocket and walking over.

“I, it’s…” Hikari paused, not wanting to say it was nothing. She didn’t want to do that again; she wanted to be able to let others help her. But she’d never actually admitted her thoughts to anyone, barely even to Plotmon; apparently it was easier to decide she was going to do so than to actually do it. “I just… sometimes I have these thoughts, and then I can’t get rid of them,” she said, her voice weaker and more wobbly than she’d been expecting.

It wasn’t all of what she wanted to admit, but it was a start. A work in progress.

“Hey, come here,” Taichi said, kneeling down. Before she could say anything, he gripped the chair arm and rolled her to him, enough so that he could wrap her up in a hug. 

Hikari sighed in relief, resting her head against his shoulder, let herself lean into him completely. He wouldn’t let her fall, even if she was almost leaning out of the chair. One of Taichi’s hands rubbed at the base of her neck, gentle but firm, and she closed her eyes and focused only on that. 

“What good have I done?” she asked, after a moment, words muffled into the material of his shirt.

“What good...?” Taichi asked, all confusion. He drew back; Hikari bit down a sound of disappointment and opened her eyes, watched as her brother sank to his knees. Taichi cupped her face in his hands, staring up at her with wide, earnest eyes. “What good? Hikari, you’ve done all the good. You’ve carried me this far, haven’t you?”

“What?” she managed weakly.

“Even when you were suffering, you helped me. You tried to help. You reminded me I wasn’t alone.”

She started shaking her head. “Yamato-san and Sora-san-”

“And you,” Taichi cut in.

“But I didn’t. I…” She’d laid in the shadows, listening to him cry at night and hadn’t done anything. Hadn’t known how to help. Hadn’t known if she wanted to, struggling through her own issues.

“You saved Agumon,” Taichi said, so soft, and the memory of pain washed through his eyes. Hikari stilled. “I know it would have been easier not to. That everyone else had given up. I had given up. I thought I had to. But you saved him. And I am so, so thankful for that. Hikari, I…” He stopped, sucking in a sharp breath, eyes misting over.

Hikari leaned forward and wrapped herself around him. It was a terribly awkward angle now, bent over out of the chair like she was, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was Taichi’s arms tight around her, unwilling to let go.

They both relaxed into the hug. Hikari sighed a little in relief, felt the sharp edge of her thoughts ease off. 

Taichi’s phone rang, breaking them apart. Taichi wiped at one eye, digging it out again. “Sorry, sorry. I agreed to this soccer game, but I’ll just-”

“No, no,” Hikari said, stopping his hands before he could pull out of the game. She could feel herself beginning to smile; the heavy weight of her thoughts eased away into stunned relief. Taichi was playing soccer again. “Go. I’m feeling so much better.”

“Really?” Taichi asked, a little disbelieving.

But Hikari nodded. Because Taichi hadn’t played a game of soccer since Daisuke, all those months ago. It felt good, seeing him go back to that, like she wasn’t the only finding their feet again. Trying to reclaim some of the good things Daisuke had taken. 

It really did help, somehow even more than his words. This evidence they could heal eventually, with a little work. She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you. Now go play.”

Taichi smiled back and stood slowly. She watched him collect his things for soccer, waving briefly at her before he left. There was a lightness to him that hadn’t been there for a while.

“Hikari?” Plotmon asked.

Hikari shuffled her chair back into place and petted Plotmon. “I’m alright now. Promise.” She picked up her pen, taking another look at her list.

It was a short list still, despite the numerous tally marks. She tapped the tip of the pen against the page as she considered. Was Agumon a victory? They’d gotten him back, yes, and, asides from the mess with Yamato and Ichijouji, the battle had gone practically smooth.

But so many digimon had died: innocent villagers, Tentomon’s fellow spies, even the fighters Agumon was friends with. She knew most of those couldn’t have been avoided, they’d happened before her team even knew something had gone wrong. But some of them could have been, if she’d acted as soon as they’d learned, if she hadn’t been so intent on saving Agumon. If her team had just decided to kill Agumon from the start.

She hadn’t though. She’d chosen to save him, to protect Taichi from more pain. She’d put them both above the lives of those digimon. The ones she’d sworn to protect. She’d been so sure of it at the time. 

Hikari stopped tapping, feeling a little queasy, because, yeah, she was _still_ sure of it. Whatever damage Agumon had caused, however many had died, Hikari knew she would have saved him. Every time, no matter what. 

She’d frozen at Full Metal City because having to choose between her team and the digimon at the city had seemed like an impossible choice. Each choice had seemed damning, like she was failing no matter what, like merely being in the position where those were her only choices was a failure she’d never recover from. 

Looking at it now, the choice was obvious. After being so close to losing Iori, staring down at the names of her team with the possibility of one day having to cross them out, it almost didn’t even feel like a choice. Her team, over the Digital World, every time.

It probably wasn’t the choice she was supposed to make as a Chosen. And some, like Iori, would never agree if she had to make that choice again. And, one day, she may be made to answer for that decision. 

_That’s fine_ , Hikari thought, and felt the truth of it echo through her bones. As long as her team was safe, that was fine. She’d handle it. She’d carry that weight and find a way for it to not destroy her. 

Hikari took a deep breath and shifted her grip on the pen again. _Agumon_. 

Then she dropped the pen and sat back to stare at the list. It was still short, but, well, the war was still going. For now, this was good. She was good.

*****

Kimeramon was a complete mess.

Ken glared up at his computer. The plans and calculations he’d done for the Kimeramon project stared back at him and the math didn’t deign to change. It had all been so easy when he’d done it, he hadn’t noticed any particular problems with it until Daisuke had pointed them out. Then, once Ken had started looking, the more problems he’d noticed. The project was riddled with them; it was glaringly flawed and Ken wasn’t quite sure where to begin fixing it.

It certainly didn’t help that his head had started pounding as soon as he’d sat down to work on it. It grew sharper as time went by, until it beat against the back of his eyes and rattled through his teeth. Ken breathed out heavily through his nose, trying to focus past the pain, and get some work done. It wasn’t a migraine yet, so he could ignore it.

There was no way the Rings could hold something as powerful as Kimeramon. There was just no way and it shouldn’t have taken Daisuke saying so for him to realize. It wasn’t a slight, just barely pushing past the limit of the Rings power difference. Kimeramon vastly outpowered what the Rings could handle. He didn’t know how he hadn’t seen that before.

He’d tried to redo it; he’d torn the project back down to the basics and tried to rebuild it to where the Rings would work. It was no use. He’d have to mangle Kimeramon beyond use in order for the Rings to hold it.

And besides, Kimeramon was a very careful balance of parts; trying to change things to fit with the limits of the Rings ran the risk of upsetting that balance. The whole thing could fall apart. Really, it was impressive he’d managed the original calculations with the ease he had.

If he couldn’t change Kimeramon to fit the Rings, he’d have to change the Rings.

Ken didn’t doubt he could do it. The Rings as they were currently were still based off his original design and coding, what he’d been able to create with the limited resources of the time. The Rings had served well enough and it had always seemed like there was something else needing his attention, so he’d never bothered to try to improve them. Everything else had seemed more important.

Now, he had the resources and a reason. 

He just… really didn’t want to.

Making the Rings the first time had been a… messy process. The prototypes had been beyond painful for the wearer, to a degree they were frequently left insensate if the Rings broke. Even when he’d made it so the Rings weren’t causing pain, there’d still been problems with getting the Rings to work right. Sometimes orders didn’t process right, or completely overpowered any instincts the digimon had, or overrode outside sensory details. Injury had been frequent, sometimes to the point of lethality.

He’d been alone, during those initial experiments. He’d snuck away to the Digital World on his own, when Wormmon had been sleeping, without telling Daisuke what he was doing. He hadn’t wanted them to see it, to see _him_.

He’d wanted to protect them. He’d _needed_ to. He hadn’t cared what he had to do or who he had to go through to accomplish it. If he had to destroy a world so they couldn’t touch Daisuke, he was willing to do it.

Ken still felt like that, but, he wasn’t in quite the same terrible place he had been then. Just coming off the tail end of awar, beginning to realize that there would always be _another war_. That something would always be trying to kill them. That the scars would keep accumulating. That it would _never stop_ until they were dead. Back then, he would have done anything.

Now, he was… better, mostly. He could afford to have limits. He wasn’t eager to modify the Rings, to go through those experiments again. 

Especially not now that the three were with him. Wormmon lived here full time and he ran most of the base; there would be no way to hide the necessary experiments from Wormmon. Maybe he could manage to hide it from Daisuke and V-mon, but it wasn’t a sure thing. And the last thing he wanted was for one of them to stumble upon it by accident. Especially not V-mon.

No, especially not Daisuke, not as he was currently.

Daisuke was recovering, slowly. Ken didn’t have to worry about Daisuke having another breakdown, but he was still fragile. Ken didn’t want to create an environment that could compromise his recovery. He didn’t want to cause a backslide.

Not that Daisuke was alright as he was now. Even recovering, a fragile Daisuke was a volatile Daisuke. As he was, Daisuke was prone to lashing out. Anything that drew his ire usually ended up bloody, and right now his ire wouldn’t be hard to attract. That would almost be alright, if it didn’t also mean he was going to be reckless and take too many risks for Ken to be wholly comfortable with. 

There wasn’t much Ken could do to help him, asides from watch his back when he was being stupid and hold him when Daisuke asked. Try to handle as much as he could himself so Daisuke didn’t have to worry. There were a lot of things Daisuke didn’t need to be handling, that Ken could take over or even assign to a slave. There was no need for Daisuke to overwork himself on unimportant things.

Daisuke did so much for him, took upon his shoulders so many things involved with the Empire and the war so Ken didn’t have to worry about it.

Ken sat back, shuffling the files on Kimeramon away. Daisuke did so much and, as Ken got sicker, it would be even more necessary for Daisuke to take on those responsibilities. But the more time went on, the more Ken hated the idea. Daisuke liked to act like he was fine, but Ken could see it wore on him. Fighting the war and helping run the Empire, it was taking a toll on both of them; but Ken knew Daisuke bore the brunt of it.

And, with recent events, the war was causing so much damage. It had already gone on too long by the time the Chosen had shown up, and now it just dragged. The Chosen kept pushing and Daisuke pushed back, because that was Daisuke did, and the whole situation kept escalating. 

Ken didn’t think he’d seen Daisuke so destroyed for years. He hated it, but he wasn’t sure what he could do. Such was the nature of war. It was just a matter of waiting for something to give. This was why Ken had originally tried not to involve him.

Familiar scurrying footsteps drew him out of his head. Ken smiled. “Hey, Vee,” he greeted, swirling his chair a little to look at V-mon.

V-mon smiled back at him, looking a little unsure of his welcome. Ken huffed and held out his hand in invitation. V-mon brightened immediately and hurried towards him, grabbing onto his hand. Ken lifted him up easily and let the ‘mon sit down in his lap. V-mon was heavier than Wormmon, and certainly took up more room, but Ken didn’t mind. Wasn’t like he was going to get more work down and he could use a distraction from the pain in his head.

“What are you doing here?” he asked. He started to gently scratch his nails against the base of V-mon’s ears.

V-mon practically melted into the touch. “Daisuke brought me. But he’s in one of his moods right now, so I thought I’d leave him alone.”

“Ah,” Ken said, though he wasn’t actually sure what V-mon meant by _one of Daisuke’s moods_ , which was a little weird, a little unsettling. “What’s he doing here?”

V-mon’s sigh sounded entirely too old and weighty for a Child digimon. Ken bit down on a chuckle. “He punched a wall again,” V-mon said, “So he came for a bandage. He’s really angry. But I don’t know how to help.”

Ken changed his scratching into a long pet. V-mon shifted about so he was leaning on Ken’s chest, eyes fluttering shut.

“Don’t worry about it so much,” Ken said softly, chest aching a little at the open concern on V-mon’s face. V-mon really was a soft-hearted digimon, for all he liked a good fight. That was why he got along with Wormmon so well. V-mon always hated not being able to help. “It’ll pass. He just, needs some time to get over what happened with Hida.”

V-mon’s response was to curl up into a ball, head ducking down out of Ken’s touch. Which was very strange coming from V-mon, who had always loved the attention, even from someone who wasn’t his partner. 

“Vee?” he asked, chest twisting with worry.

“But it doesn’t pass,” V-mon said eventually, in a tiny voice, like it wasn’t something he wanted to say. “It’s like, these days, he’s _always_ angry and it's not because of Iori-kun.”

Ken sat back fully, tilting his head up to stare at the ceiling, and ran the words over in his head. They didn’t… make any sense. Yes, Daisuke got angry sometimes; most of those times were in battle, though, where Daisuke was always given to strong emotion, and yes, most of those times, it was a terrifying kind of anger, the kind that cut through armies.

Daisuke was like a sun and that meant that half the time, he _burned_. The kind of rage that threatened to torch everything in his way. 

But the thing was, Daisuke got angry, but he wasn’t an angry person. He was… he was _Daisuke_ , sun-bright and brilliant and cheerful, forgiving and easygoing by nature. His anger didn’t linger; it never had. What V-mon was talking about, that Daisuke could be constantly angry, was unfathomable. 

Yet, as much as it sometimes felt like Daisuke was a literal part of him, V-mon was Daisuke’s partner. However wrong the idea seemed to him, he couldn’t brush it off, because it was _V-mon_.

“He tries to hide it from you,” V-mon muttered into his chest, so Ken had to strain to make out the words. It was clear V-mon wasn’t wholly comfortable admitting it, betraying his partner’s confidence, but he did it. At another time, when Ken wasn’t reeling, he’d take the time to be warmed by the idea, that V-mon and he were close enough now that V-mon was willing to, even if eh wasn’t comfortable. “He doesn’t want you to see him like that, so he acts like he’s not angry. And, you do make it better. You make him happy, so he doesn’t have to act so hard. That’s why you haven’t noticed anything.”

Ken resettled his hand on V-mon’s head and used it to tip the ‘mon’s head back. V-mon gazed up at him with wide eyes. “What about you?”

“I’m not that angry,” V-mon tried. But when Ken just stared down at him, he wilted. “I’m his partner. He couldn’t hide from me if he wanted. And I’m with him almost all the time, so sometimes, he’s just too tired to play pretend. And well, frankly, he doesn’t mind me seeing him angry. He just, doesn’t like me seeing him weak. I’ve never really minded, because I know that’s when you take care of him.”

Ken hummed and let V-mon burrow into his chest again. They didn’t say anything further.

Ken tried to think about it, tried to look back over the long years they’d known each other. How much time was covered by _these days_? How long had Ken been missing it? How good was Daisuke at hiding from him? Surely, Ken had seen it, seen something.

Signs of strain, yes, certainly, and some aggravation that seemed out of place at times. And, yes, Ken thought he’d had some calming influence. But nothing to the degree V-mon was talking about. Nothing long term enough, or deep enough.

It hurt to think about, the idea that he didn’t know Daisuke as deeply as he’d always thought he had.

Finally he sighed. “Vee?” he called softly.

V-mon gave a low hum, and his head rose slowly, sleepily.

Ken smiled down at him. “I really should go check on Daisuke,” he said.

V-mon nodded and began to shuffle down from his lap. Ken stretched in his chair and gave one last look at the files still open on his computer before he closed them. He couldn’t alter Kimeramon enough to match the constraints of the Rings. He could alter the Rings, but he really didn’t want to. Maybe the simplest solution would just be to scrap the whole thing. Start something new with those problems in mind.

Pain lanced through his skull again, sharper than ever, making him hiss and double-over.

“Ken?” V-mon asked, worried.

Ken took a second to breathe through the pain, then made himself straight and turn off the computer. He could worry about the project another time. 

He pushed himself to his feet and turned to leave, only to immediately grab the back of his chair as a wave of dizziness almost knocked him over. He leaned heavily against the chair, closing his eyes, trying to wait it out. He felt a little nauseous from the world tilting sideways.

“Ken?” V-mon called, louder this time. Ken didn’t open his eyes, but he could hear the ‘mon shifting about worriedly. “Are you okay? Are you sick? Is it your head? Is it your leg _?”_

Ken almost laughed, so startled by the question. _His leg_. His leg hadn’t hurt in years. Was V-mon still worried about that, after all this time? He hadn’t realized. Apparently, he hadn’t realized a lot of things. He was feeling a little dumb today. “I’m fine,” he said and opened his eyes. The lighting was strange and getting stranger.

“But-”

Copper painted the back of Ken’s tongue. The hand gripping the back of his chair spasmed beyond his control. “Get Daisuke,” he ordered, sudden and sharp, but it was hard to moderate his tone. His head was already beginning to spin. He sat down heavily, just collapsed onto the floor. Didn’t have much choice in the matter, because the spasms were moving down his arms to everywhere else. “Now.”

This was going to be bad.

The last thing Ken was aware of before the seizure hit was V-mon obediently fleeing the room. 

*****

The seizure lasted 3 minutes, 23 seconds. Daisuke checked the security recordings, just to be sure. It was one of the worst seizures Ken had had in ages.

Daisuke sighed out shakily, scrubbing his hand over his face. He could see Ken out of the corner of his eye; Ken sat curled up on the couch, wrapped up in a blanket. Exhaustion lined every corner of his face. Ken was attempting to hide it for the sake of the two digimon pressed up against him, but there was only so much he could do, given how bad off he really was. Lethargy weighed down every movement and his eyes frequently fell to half-mast. Still, he was trying his best to smile down at the ‘mon.

Daisuke’s heart lurched, affection and fear twisting him up. He turned away, even though not having Ken in his sight line caused panic to bubble up his throat. He couldn’t look at that smile right now. It hurt too much.

It was getting worse. Not only were the seizures occurring more often, they were lasting longer. And they would keep getting worse as that weed grew, until Ken’s body fell apart under the strain. And they were rapidly reaching that point.

No human medicine had an effect, not in slowing its growth and certainly not at fixing it. And it wasn’t like they could cut it out, wrapped around Ken’s spine as it was. 

But the weed was of Digital World origin. Which meant that if there was a way to remove it, or at least make it harmless, it would be in the Digital World. Daisuke was more than willing to tear this world apart to find a why to save Ken. He didn’t really care at this point what that cure looked like, just as long as it worked.

It felt like, at this point, Daisuke had searched almost all the Digital World for that cure. He’d turned up nothing. A few rumors, some legends and tall tales about great power, but with the Digital World, it was hard to tell what was real. Everything he’d managed to turn up hadn’t helped; he was running out of places to look and time to do so. He hadn’t found a new lead in a year and was stuck revisiting the places he had previously hoping to uncover something new. 

With only a few months left, Daisuke was staring down the ever more likely reality of Ken’s death with no way to prevent it.

The fear sat sick and ugly in his stomach, making it hard to enjoy even the perfect moments, let alone Ken as he was currently.

Giggling made him look back, as much as he knew it was going to hurt. Ken had V-mon on his back, fingers skittering over V-mon’s stomach, making him laugh. Still, the movement of Ken’s fingers was slow, the tickling only working because Ken knew exactly where to do so. Ken was looking down at V-mon, bright smile just visible through the fall of his hair. Wormmon, perched on Ken’s other side, relaxed as the two played.

Daisuke didn’t care about the Empire, but he would do anything to keep moments like this.

He’d given up on the idea of anyone helping; no one ever had before. If he wanted to save Ken, he was going to have to do it on his own. Even if he had to cut through armies, or the Chosen, or what ever else got in his way.

Daisuke thought about the sword Ken had made, still packed away in the lab. He knew exactly where it was, of course, but he hadn’t taken it up again yet. He wasn’t sure he wanted to, that he wanted to even see it again. But if using it, despite his misgivings, would help save Ken, he would do it.

Nausea painted the back of his mouth as he considered it, wielding that sword again. He could still feel the weight of it in his hand, the texture of the hilt binding. The drag as it cut through Hida’s stomach. Daisuke closed his eyes, swallowing thickly, trying to shake the memory. It was over; there was nothing he could do now. He just had to keep moving.

He looked back over at Ken. Watched him bop V-mon on the nose, grinning at the continued giggling; Ken used his free hand to tuck Wormmon in close, enough that Wormmon could snuggle under the blanket and out of view. 

Daisuke had to pick up that sword again; he had to keep fighting. He didn’t have the time to wait until he was comfortable again. He’d just, he’d just have to push through. He could do that. He’d done it before.

He’d lived half his life with Ken’s heartbeat in his chest. He couldn’t imagine living without it. Losing Ken wasn’t an option; he was everything.

Ken looked up and met his gaze. The smile fell away and the dark, wide set of his eyes made him look solemn. Daisuke didn’t say anything, just watched Ken grow sadder. “You don’t have to,” Ken said, voice quiet. Because of course Ken knew what he was thinking.

In his lap, V-mon sat up and looked at him with worried eyes. V-mon looked at him like that a lot lately. Daisuke wished he didn’t have so many reasons to look like that. V-mon had always been such a bundle of energy, maybe not with Wormmon’s gentleness, but with so much joy to him. 

Daisuke wished he could do more to protect all of them. He walked towards the couch and bent down so he could kiss Ken. “I’ll be back.”

“You don’t always have to run off,” Ken said, in that soft, sad voice still. He did though; the Digital World was huge and he was running out of time.

“I won’t stand here and watch you die,” he said. He couldn’t. He’d never forgive himself. Daisuke pressed another kiss to Ken’s forehead then straightened. “Vee, come on.”

V-mon snuggled into Ken’s palm briefly, stealing one last pet, then followed after him.

*****

The journal sat open on her desk, letting Hikari see the half-page, double-spaced list. But that wasn’t what held her attention. The goggles sat in the far corner of the desk, as they had since she’d last taken them off. They had held her attention more and more every day; she hadn’t picked them up, because she wasn’t sure she was ready.

She was beginning to wonder if she would ever feel ready. Or if she’d just have put them on again and see what happened. 

A part of her shied away from the idea of putting them on before she was absolutely sure. Wanted to avoid being back in that terrible place, whatever it took. But, at the same time, she wanted to take it up. To prove, if just to herself, that she was ready, that she could do it.

“Hikari,” Taichi called, popping his head into the doorway. “You’re gonna be late.”

“Okay, thanks. Just,” Hikari hesitated, stomach swimming uneasily, before asking, “Give me a second?”

Taichi frowned, considering her, then nodded. “Be quick about it,” he said before ducking back out.

Hikari stood and, swallowing down the hesitation, the nausea, picked up the goggles. Behind her, she heard Plotmon suddenly stand up; Hikari could feel the weight of Plotmon’s sudden, complete attention. She walked over to the mirror.

She’d felt better, these past few weeks. Better than she had in months. And, she’d made changes; it felt easier to reach out, after talking to Taichi. To let herself talk to people, to listen to them about how she was doing and really accept it when they said she was doing alright. The journal had helped as well, when some of the darker thoughts started up again; it was nice having the reminder when she felt like a screw up. Between all of that and how much better Iori was doing, things felt good.

She felt steady, emotionally and physically, like maybe all that weight was something she could carry again if she was careful.

Only it was so easy to say that when things were calm. When they were as close to peaceful like they were right now. Daisuke, silent, inactive, not bothering to dig into the wound he’d helped split open. No big battles to really test how much her anxiety could handle. It was so easy to say she was good right now, but there was no saying how quickly that could fall apart once something went wrong.

Hikari bit her lip but pulled the goggles on. They got as far as her forehead, like where Taichi had once worn them. Then she paused, her hands trembling, not wholly willing to pull them all the way down. She knew there really wasn’t much difference in where she wore them, but it felt like there was. It felt too much like stepping back to that terrible point, even with all the changes she’d made.

She lowered her hands, stared at the goggles where they were. It… wasn’t bad. As silly-looking and slightly uncomfortable as the placement was, she could stand it better than her neck. Still, like she’d thought last time- it felt like a crown.

She winced, the nausea returning. With a sigh, she lifted one hand to tug them off and then- 

Paused.

She pulled her hand back, stretched it out in front of her. Stared at the bandages wrapped around her fingers that had caught her attention. At the blisters and scratches. She looked up, back at the mirror, ignored the goggles to focus on herself. It had been awhile since she’d done that, taken the time to actually _look_ ; it had all become such background noise. 

The skin on her cheeks and around her nose was peeling from sunburn, despite her efforts to avoid it. There were lines and shadows around her eyes that hadn’t gone away, even with all the sleep she was getting. Her hands were a brutal mess.

She didn’t… look much like a princess at all, did she?

Hikari didn’t move for a long moment, simply stared. 

She could remember where each hurt had come from, the source of most of the scratches. The battles she’d come out of, that she’d fought through and won. It hadn’t been easy, it had actually been quite difficult at times. But she’d done it.

She’d… done a lot of things, now that she thought about it. Now that the journal list was open for her to see, that long series of tally marks of towers taken down. She’d made mistakes, of course; huge ones in places, ones that should have blown up in her face except for some good luck. But she’d had victories too and she didn’t want to forget that.

Also worth remembering: she’d fought for those victories, worked hard for them. She still carried a lot of the physical strain of it. None of it had just been given to her because she was Taichi’s little sister.

She’d done so much in the war. It had nearly destroyed her, but she was managing now. She was clawing her way through it. And it hurt, but she finally felt like maybe she could be okay again going forward. She’d found ways to be okay again.

That was hers. It was hers; she’d done that. _Daisuke couldn't have it_.

Hikari let out a long shaky breath, her eyes burning. It was a good burn though, a good, aching hurt deep in her chest. She smiled, small but heartfelt, and reached up again. She tugged the goggles down to her neck, where they hung easily- not weightless, never, but she could handle it. 

She bent down to pick up her bag, smoothed out the lines of her uniform. She could see Plotmon in the reflection, small tail wagging, big eyes bright. “Right,” she said to them both, “Let’s go then.”


	17. Trial by Flood

Daisuke returned to the battlefield with little fanfare and no explanation for his absence. Everyone’s fear that he’d disappeared in order to plan some great attack, a grand retribution for Full Metal City, turned out to be baseless. The Empire’s war machine ground back into full gear, but it was only a return to their normal activity. There was no attempt at a counter-attack, no attempt on the city or the surrounding area. Hikari wasn’t sure what they were thinking but the Empire seemed to have abandoned the city entirely, leaving the free digimon and the Chosen to do whatever they wished with the area.

Hikari began dividing her team’s attention between the city and the rest of the Digital World. Full Metal City remained their only stronghold and it needed support if it was going to survive; however, she couldn't leave everyone else to face the Empire alone. Her team fluctuated between helping the city and pushing back against the Empire elsewhere.

Though with Iori gone, there wasn’t much they could do. Helping the city was easy enough; the digimon there usually provided the Chosen back-up. However, her team was on its own everywhere else and her team was a man down. Her team was fine as long as the slaves they fought were in small groups; against larger installations, like the big factories that were so vital to the Empire’s expansion, a fight was out of the question.

Against Daisuke and XV-mon, it was unthinkable.

Hikari’s orders remained an immediate retreat as soon as either was spotted. No risk-taking, not after what had happened to Iori, not with less backup than usual. No need to test their luck against Daisuke’s; that would be a lost battle from the start.

Still, such a quick escape wasn’t always easy. Daisuke frequently followed, attempted to reengage, whereas before he had seemed content to merely send them running in defeat. Hikari didn’t need the confirmation to understand Daisuke had last all patience and good humor towards their meddling. He wanted the war over. 

They hadn’t quite reached the end of the line, Hikari thought, because Daisuke wasn’t using the worst of his tactics, the lethal ones, to take them out. Daisuke was sick of them and wanted them gone but, despite his attack on Iori saying otherwise, he didn’t appear ready to kill them to achieve it.

The day that Daisuke got to that point, Hikari thought their only warning would be a shadow overhead before they died.

But for now, Daisuke just chased after, preferring to battle them to submission rather than take an easy kill. At least all those months of battle beforehand had given her team time to learn how to fight at the level keeping up with XV-mon required. Even a man down, they were skilled enough to avoid being beaten until they could escape relatively unharmed, just as long as they only focused on escape and didn’t let themselves be drawn into the fight Daisuke clearly wanted. XV-mon was fast but even he couldn’t hunt down three digimon at once, not and let them live anyways. 

And, on top of their added skill, the way Daisuke and XV-mon fought lately had been… strange.

She was sure she wasn’t the only one who’d noticed but no one said anything about it. Still, there was no denying Daisuke had been strange lately; he’d always been willing to push his luck in a fight before but now he was downright reckless. Took stupid risks that left her boggling. He was... not meaner, she thought, because he’d also been unnervingly, uncharacteristically silent every fight. Wild, was a good word for the look in his eyes. Half-wild even from the start of the fight, like something in him had come unsettled. It was disconcerting and concerning-- it left her team a little more room to maneuver with him seemingly out of control, but it also made him more dangerous. He wasn’t willing to kill them outright but she also didn’t think he was fully considering the damage some of his attacks could do.

Whatever was going on in his head, Daisuke was, as ever, unwilling to share.

Team meetings, to go over strategy, became more necessary than ever. It was no longer just about which targets to hit; there was so much to coordinate and information to keep track of, a meeting was necessary at least once a week. It was the only way to stay on top of everything. Hikari thought, and said on occasion, that they would have lost a long time ago without Koushiro helping.

Hikari sat on the couch, half her attention on their ever-changing map, half on Iori. Iori had attended every meeting as soon as he’d been capable of making the trip, determined to keep up to date on what was happening if he couldn’t help. His frustration at being stuck on the sidelines got funneled into a determination to help in the human world. He did as much as he could, helping where they need it, willingly taking as much work and responsibility off their shoulders as they allowed.

Hikari worried that he was taking too much onto himself when he was supposed to be resting. But Iori remained Iori; steadfast and unwavering and mountainous, despite her concerns, so she kept silent. The only thing that seemed to truly bother Iori right now was the suggestion that he _couldn’t_ do something; better not to say anything than upset him when he was trying so hard.

Still, she kept an eye on him as he helped Koushiro organize his things for the meeting. There was no doubt he’d be attempting to help Taichi as well, except Taichi had loudly and adamantly complained that _I’m the host here damn it_ , until Iori had sat down, embarrassed. Hikari watched Iori for any sign of exhaustion or pain, for a warning that a third pair of hands would be necessary, or even just a strict order for him to stop.

There wasn’t any. Jou had basically marked him good to go, though they were taking it slow. He’d be back to fighting with them soon and the thought was accompanied by both relief and dread.

“I think we’re good,” Koushiro said, looking over at her.

Hikari hummed acknowledgment, flicking her full attention down to the map as Iori settled back. It really wasn’t possible, anymore, to tell at a glance who was winning. Sure, the Empire technically had control of more land, but her team had drilled so many holes behind the front lines the map was chaos. 

And, of course, Full Metal City; it was nothing compared to the strongholds the Empire had, but it meant something. There was no denying that taking the city had had an effect on the free digimon. The very air felt different, like maybe they all had a chance.

Hikari finished her examination, with some warm note of pride swelling in her chest, and took another moment to fix tea from the set Taichi had put out. It gave everyone a chance to settle in more. Hikari looked over the group as she busied her hands: Iori finally relaxing back into the couch, barely noticeable stress lines easing, the last bit of strain from the wound still evident; Takeru, head dropped back, breath slow and even though she knew he was still awake; Taichi and Koushiro sitting next to each other and speaking in lighthearted voices, upbeat despite the exhausted slump of their shoulders, spirits rising more every week; Miyako, too quiet, whole body tucked into itself, attentive and obedient and _wrong_.

Miyako followed every order, attended every meeting and mission, showed no signs of a problem when she fought- nothing anyone could call her on, not outright, but it was clear something was bothering her. There was nothing Miyako would allow them to help with, though Hikari asked and asked and bothered and-

She had a new understanding of the frustration her team had had with her these past few months.

“Alright,” Hikari said, finally sitting back, the tea a pleasantly warm anchor in her hands. Everyone straightened, becoming all business in response. “Is there anything urgent? If not I’d like to focus on the towers primarily. The Empire had been pushing out recently right? Around…” she paused, scanning their map, then circled her finger around one portion. “Here, I believe. I’d like to see if we can’t slow them down a bit.”

Koushiro made a thoughtful sound, glancing between his tablet and the map. Hikari knew he kept a full agenda of priorities on that tablet. “Actually, there has been an urgent request. Not the city this time. It's from a small village, a little further than where the Empire is pushing. Here,” Koushiro said, pressing his finger to a small spot on the map just past the area she’d circled.

Miyako started, leaning forward to peer at the map; the action was sudden enough, unexpected from Miyako at this point, that Hikari froze to watch her. “That’s… that’s one of the places Motomiya visited. The ones we’ve been looking into,” Miyako finally said.

“That’s right,” Koushiro agreed, “There’s a building just past the village, one of the places Motomiya went to. Apparently, he’s been visiting it quite often lately. The digimon there are getting nervous.”

Hikari could understand that nervousness. How many times could one handle being dwarfed in the Knight’s shadow without warning before every nerve was shot?

“He’s been going there a lot?” Hikari asked, “Is there something special about this place in particular, compared to the others?”

Miyako, who had taken on the task of looking into it despite Hikari’s misgivings shrugged, helpless, silent, and slumped back into the couch. 

“He’s been revisiting a lot of the places, with increasing frequency, not just this one,” Koushiro said, “We’ve been looking into it, but, it’s complicated.”

“Who visited that place initially?” Hikari asked.

“It’s in the mountains, so-” Koushiro paused to think about it. “-Takeru-kun.”

Takeru started at being addressed. “Yes, I had the mountains,” he agreed. Then he shook his head minutely and admitted, “I don’t remember it. Which one was it?”

“I have pictures,” Miyako muttered and pulled out her phone. They waited while she flipped through her gallery then tossed the phone to Takeru. “It’s like, the next five.”

Takeru flipped through the pictures slowly, eyebrows drawn down, then made a thoughtful sound. “Wait, yeah, I know where this is. It’s the one with the dam,” he said, and tossed Miyako back her phone.

“Dam?” Hikari echoed.

“There’s a dam there. Very impressive, very hard to miss.”

“I don’t really remember the building we looked at,” Tokomon said suddenly from Takeru’s side, “Because I just kept thinking that there was _a lot_ of water.”

“Boggling amounts,” Takeru agreed, though his tone was so serious it could only be teasing. Hikari bit her lip on a grin. “But other than the dam, the whole place is pretty unremarkable. It’s located on a mountain ridge. Single building, quite large. I remember pillars. So many pillars.”

Koushiro made a humming sound. “It’s says here from the notes you gaze, you made mention of several murals and structural damage.”

“Murals were nonsense as far as I could tell,” Takeru said, “And yeah, the place is in ruins. But it’s not like, oh god something terrible happened here. I got more of a sense it’s just the place’s _aesthetic_.” Takeru waved his hands and wiggled his fingers about on the word. “Gotta love the Digital World sometimes.”

Miyako attempted to hold in a laugh at the display, only to end up snorting inelegantly into her tea.

“Tell me more about the village,” Hikari ordered. Still, she aimed a small, amused grin Miyako’s way, which Miyako slowly returned.

“I didn’t notice any village, don’t look at me,” Takeru said and raised his hands to ward them off.

“They’re asking for help evacuating,” Koushiro explained, “As soon as possible. They’re afraid that Motomiya may decide to stop ignoring them at any second. And even if he doesn’t, they are right in the path of the Kaiser’s army. With the amount of attention Motomiya’s giving the area, I doubt we could deter the army into going a different way.”

“Why don’t they just leave themselves?” Takeru asked, “It doesn’t look like they’re surrounded. Why wait for us?”

“Most of the village is young. Mostly Child digimon, a few Babies. The geography surrounding the village protects them from any wandering, aggressive digimon. But if they leave…”

“They’ll be slaughtered. And probably not by Imperial slaves,” Hikari finished. Koushiro nodded. “Alright, put it at the top. We’ll handle it first thing.” She paused, glanced over at Iori, before asking, “You’re good to go?”

Iori blinked at her for a second in confusion before understanding what she was asking. He went ramrod straight and nodded, so serious Hikari couldn’t help but smile.

“Alright. This will be a good mission to bring you back on. Simple, hopefully little fighting. Ease you into it.”

Iori nodded again, almost eager.

“Is there anything else urgant?” she asked, looking back at Koushiro.

Koushiro shook his head. “Not immediate. A few of the usual. Supply requests and joint attack plans from the city. Nothing that needs to be done on a timetable.”

“Let’s add in a few of the them for the week, that should be good enough.”

They continued to plan, going over which areas of the Empire to hit. What would slow the Empire’s progression, what would force them to stop for a week or three. What would leave them vulnerable to further attacks, what would create an opening her team could pry into a gaping wound. 

They couldn’t hit anything critical, anything that would cripple. The Empire had learned to guard those fervently, even on the front lines, if they wanted to continue to expand. Her team hit elsewhere-- Koushiro and her hoped that, if they kept pushing, poking holes in the right places, all that extensive protection would fall apart and they’d be able to take down the critical parts. Then that whole area of Imperial control would collapse into itself. 

And, if it didn’t, well, her team was certainly making things very difficult for the Empire.

The meeting ended with a full schedule for the week and tentative plans for moving forward. They were open to change, in case anything else urgant appeared, but it provided a nice baseline to work around. Hikari set her empty cup down as Koushiro began packing up, a pleased feeling humming through her as she considered the progress done.

Miyako stood up suddenly and headed for the door. Hikari stared after for a second in surprise at the abruptness before she managed to shake herself; she stood and hurried after. She caught Miyako at the genkan. “Hey, you leaving already?” she asked.

Miyako looked up at her, eyes dark and blank. Miyako didn’t wear her distress as obviously as Hikari had. She was still perfectly done up, the only flaws in her appearance the scratches from battle. However, Miyako had managed to hide or avoid the worst of even that. She didn’t even have a sunburn. If it wasn’t for her behavior, Hikari doubted she’d think anything was wrong. She supposed it was just a good thing Miyako wasn’t a better liar. 

“Yeah,” Miyako said after a second, “I have work to do.” She shrugged then, trying to act like nothing was wrong.

Hikari reached out to place a hand on Miyako’s arm. “Are you okay?” Hikari asked.

“I’m handling it,” Miyako answered. Hikari had to fight to keep her disbelief out of her expression. Miyako certainly didn’t _sound_ like she was handling it. Maybe she didn’t manage to strangle down all of her disbelief, because Miyako continued, “I promise. I’m good. Besides, Iori-kun’s the one who got hurt. Worry about him.”

“I can worry about both of you,” Hikari protested.

Miyako’s response was to lean forward and hug her. “Thank you, Hikari-chan. But don’t stress yourself out too much, okay?”

Hikari returned the hug, clutching Miyako to her, trying to offer what comfort she could.

Miyako pulled back eventually, sighing long and heavy. “I do have to go,” she said.

“Okay. Take care of yourself,” Hikari said, made the last part stern, like an order.

Miyako grinned, just a little, in response. Hikari’s heart leapt in relief. “I’ll see you later,” she promised and left.

Hikari stared at her closed door for a long moment. When she turned around, she wasn’t that surprised to see Takeru a few steps away. His expression was solemn, hands stuffed in his pockets. “She’s not talking to you either, huh?” Takeru asked.

“No,” she admitted, “What do I do?”

“I’ll tell you when I figure that out,” Takeru said. He sighed, shoulders dropping; he glanced back at where Iori was helping Koushiro. She couldn’t read his expression, but it was tight and unhappy. “You get the feeling everything’s piecing together on the surface and falling apart underneath?”

Hikari looked him over: the tired slump of his shoulders, the unhappy pinch of his mouth, the dark cast of his eyes. “Are you okay?” she asked, which earned her a surprised look. “It’s just, you keep looking after everyone else. Are _you_ okay?”

“Yeah, I-” Takeru paused and sighed again. One hand came up to scratch at the scar on his neck, a nervous tick she wasn’t sure he’d noticed he’d developed. “I learned a long time ago what I need to do to… be okay. So,” he shrugged, “I’m getting there. I’ve been… talking with Yamato and Sora-san a lot. That’s- it helps.”

“I’m glad,” she said, “I’m here too, okay?”

Takeru softened, eyes going warm. “Thanks Hikari,” he said, voice gentle and appreciative. Then he glanced back at Iori and that unhappy pinch returned. “You sure he’s ready?”

“He says he’s good. Can’t keep him out forever,” Hikari said, though a part of her would prefer to give him months upon months to recover. Unfortunately that was time they just didn’t have.

Takeru made a noncommittal hum.

“You think he’s lying?” Hikari asked, unable to keep her disbelief hidden. It was Iori. Lying from him was… it didn’t happen.

Takeru paused, clearly struggled with words, then said, “I don’t think he realizes it's a lie.”

Hikari glanced back at Iori herself, tried to see whatever Takeru did. It was just Iori though, maybe a little slower still, but Iori.

Takeru shrugged then. “Well, I guess we’ll see,” he said and didn’t sound happy about it.

“Yeah,” Hikari agreed and found herself as unenthusiastic as Takeru in the wake of his words. At least, she thought, they were starting with an easy escort mission. If something was wrong, they’d be able to find out in relative safety.

*****

Iori supposed he’d been expecting to feel… something, the first time he returned to the Digital World. He didn’t; or, at least, nothing different. Just the normal anxiety, the anticipation of fight-or-flight that came with every trip to the Digital World. Other than that, he felt normal. Good.

No pain, finally. Healed up nicely, for the most part- except for the scar on his stomach he had a difficult time looking at. The ones on his arm weren’t so bad. It was nice to move around without being in pain again; to be able to fight again, to go to practice with his grandfather and not worry about pushing too hard. Healed up, he could put it all behind him.

He straightened from the tumble through the Gate and brushed himself off. Green stretched out around the Gate, gently slumping fields in every direction and it was nice. Good to be in grasslands instead of a desert, to have everything open, easy to see and keep track of. The only break in the horizon were distant mountains. Better than what he was expecting, and more than likely certainly helping his feeling of normalcy. After all the panic attacks, he’d been worried about returning to the desert.

But no, this was good. He could do this. He had it under control.

“Iori-kun?” Hikari called. He looked up at her, found her watching him with dark, gentle eyes. “You okay?”

Everyone was watching him actually. He supposed that was to be expected. He nodded. “Yeah, I’m good. Let’s do this.”

Hikari nodded back at him, her smile quiet relief, and turned to digivolve Tailmon.

Iori did the same with Armadimon.

They set off towards the mountains in the distance. Iori turned his head up, breathed deep, enjoyed the wind rushing past his face. He’d never been as big on flying as some of the others but after so many nights haunted by the memory of those tunnels, he could appreciate it in ways he hadn’t before.

He was still being watched, he knew, though they were trying not to be blatant. Miyako was all relief and relaxed posture, like him being back had eased a huge weight from her back. Iori didn’t mind that; it helped unwind a knot in his own stomach, seeing Miyako in improving spirits. It had ached, not being able to support her the way he wanted, the way he had before his injury. That he could do so again now was a relief. 

What he minded was Takeru, who watched him with a kind of hesitant wariness. Iori wasn’t sure what to do with it, why Takeru kept looking at him like that, what he could do to make him stop. He did know it made him a little uncomfortable, made an itch form under his skin. Takeru tried to hide it, grinned at him sunnily when Iori met his eyes. But Iori could feel him watching.

Hikari, at least, wasn’t watching him at all. Her eyes remained steadfast on their target. He couldn’t help but smile a little, all pride, at her recovery. She looked good.

“Are we close?” Holsmon called.

Hikari glanced back and nodded. “It should be just over that mountain,” she said, pointing. “In the valley before the next. Koushiro said the village would be just before the dam, if we’re coming from the south. That if we got over water we went too far.”

“If it's narrow enough for a dam, than technically it would not be a valley,” Iori said. Takeru glanced over at him then smiled, slow and sly. Iori doubted he’d ever trusted a smile less.

Their group flew through one of the low breaks between ridges in the mountain, coasted down into the wide, flat expanse between the two mountains. The air there was sweet, a strange impossible mix of spring time growth and winter chill. The grass wasn’t quite the right color. It was charming, Iori thought, the slightly imperfect mimicry.

“This way,” Hikari called and Nefertimon began to fly along the valley.

“If there’s a dam, it must narrow at some point, right?” Miyako called.

There wasn’t an answer. There was no need for one. Iori could just begin to make out the dam appearing in front of them. The valley wasn’t narrowing at all, actually; it remained several kilometers wide. The dam was _huge_. It stretched from one mountain to the other, covering the whole valley, and was nearly as tall as either mountain. They were flying high enough that Iori could see the water behind it, stretching out and out as far as he could see. Tokomon had been right; that was _a lot_ of water.

Miyako whistled, stretching up and shading her eyes so she could look out over the dam.

“So, uh, it doesn’t narrow,” Takeru noted. Takeru looked over at him, grinning wide and smug. “Does that mean it's still a valley?”

Iori huffed, all amusement, and shook his head.

“Alright, come on,” Hikari called. Iori looked over at her; she was watching them with her own little grin, for all he could see she was trying to be serious. “The village should be down there.”

Iori leaned over so he could look down.

“Oh yeah,” Digmon said, “I see it.”

It was a small village; there weren’t very many buildings, though each stood at least three stories. Still, with the dam looming up behind, those houses were nothing. Though the village wasn’t directly against the dam, it still sat in it’s shadow. Practically hidden, given how eye catching the dam was; it was easy to miss the village when one was focused on the sheer volume of water. 

The team began to circle lower. As they did, Iori noticed Takeru suddenly sit up straight, leaning out over Pegasmon to peer at something closely. “Hey,” he called, “There’s the building Motomiya’s interested in.”

Iori looked across at where Takeru was pointing. A building, obviously grander and much older than the ones of the village, was clearly visible along one of the mountain ridges. Abandoned and falling apart, Iori noted, just as Takeru had said. He wondered what was so important about it, and all those other places, that it held so much interest to Motomiya.

“Got it,” Hikari said, “Let’s focus on the village. Maybe if there’s time, we’ll check it out ourselves.”

Everyone made sounds of agreement and lowered the last few feet to the ground. Iori could see the digimon huddling in their homes, watching from doorways and windows with frightened eyes. He wished he knew how he could make himself less threatening, but none of it ever seemed to work.

Hikari jumped off Nefertimon and landed easily. She bowed; when she spoke, her voice rang clearly. “We’re the Chosen. We’ve come to help, as requested.”

There was nothing for a minute, then slowly digimon began to creep from the huts. Lalamon and Floramon; Budmon and Gummymon, hiding behind their legs. More and more than Iori recognized easily. They all peered out at the Chosen, a little unsure, not quite willing to completely reveal themselves. 

Hikari waited by Nefertimon, patient, somehow managing to be as perfectly nonthreatening as Iori wished he could make himself. 

Finally, a Bearmon walked forward out of the shadows of the houses and stood in front of Hikari. He looked like he was trying to be brave, but Iori could see he was trembling. “You’re here to help?” he asked cautiously.

Hikari nodded, not bothering to point out she’d already said that. “Yes, of course. We’re ready to help you leave, as soon as you wish.”

Bearmon hesitated obviously, glancing back at the other digimon of the village. The other Child digimon were ushering the Babies back into houses. One of the Floramon waved him back towards them. “One moment please,” he muttered, then hurried back towards the other Child digimon. They bent into a quiet conversation.

“Um…” Miyako said. A glance at her showed her expression matched her tone: confusion, uncertainty.

Hikari help out a hand, cutting her off. Hikari looked back at them over her shoulder; her eyes gave lie to the still calm she’d been projecting, showed her anxiety, her deep need to not fuck this up. It was hidden well, but they’d spent enough time together for him to see it. He didn’t doubt the others saw it too. 

Still, Hikari said, voice pitched low but steady, “I’ve got this.” She turned away, back to the village digimon, before pausing and adding, “And will you all get down? You look like you’re about to start a fight.”

Iori obediently began to climb down off Digmon’s shoulder. Once he was on the ground, he glanced over at the others, found Takeru grinning wide and amused and fond. Iori couldn’t blame him; it was good seeing Hikari like this again- in control, willing to be in control, managing her anxiety.

The digimon were still talking, so they had no choice but to wait. Hikari didn’t seem bothered, though since her back was to him he couldn’t tell how much of that was a lie. He could see Miyako craning her neck, looking up and up and up. 

“How much water do you think that is?” Miyako asked, voice quiet with awe.

Iori looked up himself. The dam looked even bigger on the ground, closer than he knew it actually was. “Uh…”

“I don’t want to think about it,” Takeru said, which about mirrored Iori’s own thoughts. Something about all that water, knowing the kind of power that was being held back by the dam. It was awe-inspiring, certainly, but also a little scary.

Finally, Bearmon returned. He was flanked this time by a Lalamon and a Koemon. “We would appreciate any help,” Bearmon said quietly.

“But we have no place to go,” Lalamon added.

“That’s just fine,” Hikari said, “Full Metal City has more than enough room to take you all.”

The declaration made the digimon shift uncomfortably, glance at each other. They didn’t seem assured at all. “Full Metal City…” Koemon muttered.

Hikari’s head tilted. “Is there a problem with that?” she asked, voice light, giving nothing away. 

“That’s where the army is, right?” Lalamon asked, “It’s all military there. Fighters.”

Most would consider that a good thing, Iori thought. Having the free digimon there willing to fight off the Empire, many would appreciate it. Still, Iori supposed he could understand it. So many in the village were only Babies; no doubt bringing them into a war zone, into a military stronghold, was a terrifying consideration.

“I understand,” Hikari said, her voice low and sympathetic. “However, well, there is no where else, I’m afraid. It’s the only real stronghold we can bring you. We could bring you elsewhere if you really wished it, but you would have to build everything and I can’t promise it would be safe from just random digimon.”

There was another pause where the three bent together and spoke too quiet for Iori to hear.

“It doesn’t have to be a permanent move,” Takeru said suddenly, “It’s all we have now, but it won’t be our only stronghold forever. Once there’s a more suitable place, you can move there.”

“He’s right,” Hikari agreed, “What matters right now, is getting you away from the Empire.”

More talking, though it didn’t last long before the three straightened and turned back to them. “We understand,” Bearmon said, “Please, take us.”

Hikari nodded. “Of course.” She paused and looked across the whole village. “How many digimon are here? We probably won’t be able to move all of you in one group. Which ones would you prefer moved first?”

This time the talking was an obvious, fierce debate. Iori restrained a sigh, looking down and digging his toe into the dirt. He could hear them arguing: if they wanted to send the Babies first, leave them vulnerable in the middle of a military stronghold, or wait until the Child digimon had a presence in the city to send them. Which would, of course, leave the Babies still here vulnerable anyway. It seemed kind of circular to Iori, but he could agree it wasn’t an easy decision in any way. 

A shadow passed overhead. Iori froze completely, looking up straight towards the clear blue sky. The shadow cast by the dam had obscured it slightly, but Iori was sure that had been XV-mon. He couldn’t see anything above them, but that didn’t mean anything.

Ice bloomed in his stomach; he couldn’t do anything to stop his heart rate picking up, going too fast. He curled his hands into fists until his nails bit roughly into his palms. Focused on the pain until he could breathe through the building panic. He could handle this. He could.

Still, Takeru was the one who called, “Hikari, it’s Motomiya!” when the shadow fell over them again, before Iori had managed to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth.

Hikari snapped her attention over to them from where she’d been completely focused on the village digimon arguing. The digimon themselves went very quiet. “Are you sure?” Hikari demanded.

Takeru nodded. “Saw XV-mon, I think. Flying towards the ruin.”

“He see us?” Hikari asked.

Takeru shrugged in reply, his expression tight and hard.

“Alright. Let’s play this like he has. No need to take risks,” Hikari said. She bit her lip, eyes narrowed in thought, before turning to look at the village digimon again. They looked back at her with huge eyes. “Get inside. Keep hidden. We’ll get his attention and draw him away.”

The digimon looked relieved as they turned and hurried back to their houses. The doors closed immediately, shutters falling over windows.

Hikari turned back to them, sighing heavily. “We all good?” she asked, “Iori-kun?”

Iori jolted when he heard his name called, looking back at Hikari with wide eyes.

She stared across at him with concern. “You good?” she asked again, “Not what we were hoping for your first day back.”

Iori gulped thickly, heart still pounding in his chest. It wasn’t a panic attack yet, he was holding it back. But it was close enough, just at the idea of facing him again. Iori suddenly wasn’t sure he was ready to actually face him again, after what had happened. What Motomiya had done.

His chest tightened to the point of pain. If Motomiya still had that sword- Hikari had said he hadn’t used it since the battle for the city, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still carrying it. If Motomiya drew that sword, then this time Iori wouldn’t even have the defense of a wooden stick. He was the only one on the team with the skill to match Motomiya in that area; if he couldn’t, the rest of the team would be defenseless. The fear tightened his chest even further as he thought it. His friends would have to go through what he had. Maybe worse. They’d be cut to ribbons.

Fury burned away the ice trapped around his lungs. “I’m good,” he promised and a bit of his fury leaked into his voice.

Motomiya wasn’t going to touch his team. Iori would stop him, no matter the cost.

Hikari watched him for a moment. Then her eyes flickered over to Takeru and the two shared a long look he couldn’t read. “Then let’s go,” she said, “We pull him as far from the village as we can, fight as necessary, than runs ourselves.” 

Without wasting another second, she threw herself back onto Nefertimon and the two flew upwards. 

Iori and Digmon followed her. “Are you sure?” Digmon asked, voice low so even Iori almost didn’t hear him over the wind. “Can you face him?”

“Yes,” Iori said. His chest still felt tight, it was still hard to breathe, but he could work through it. He was fine; he could do this.

Digmon made an unhappy sound but didn’t say anything against him.

They flew right up to the ruin. Iori could see Motomiya standing in front of the building, head thrown back as he looked up the walls. XV-mon was sitting down near him, close enough that he could fly to Motomiya’s defense immediately should anything happen. As they flew past the ruins, Motomiya turned to watch them; he was wearing the mask, which even at a distance was a fierce, terrible thing. Iori couldn’t see the sword, but given how it could coil up, that meant nothing. So little about Motomiya was straightforward and Iori hated it.

Building dread twisted together with his anger until Iori felt nauseous. His hands were shaking; Iori tried his best to ignore it. As long as that sword didn’t come out, Iori was sure he could handle it. His resolution sat heavy in his stomach, grounding, unignorable. He had to stop Motomiya.

They kept flying past the ruins. Iori looked back over his shoulder at Motomiya and watched as he broke into a run. XV-mon stood and flew into the air; he matched Motomiya’s speed and easily picked him up.

Hikari and Nefertimon didn’t stop until they’d flown over the dam and the water gleamed beneath them, deep enough to be depthless. Iori wasn’t sure what Hikari had had planned, besides trying to drag Motomiya as far from the village as possible. However far she’d been planning on running, it was cut short by XV-mon. The light of his _X-Laser_ cut through the air, forcing the team to scatter in different directions wildly. Iori winced a little at Digmon’s hard pull to the left, no longer as used to the sudden momentum changes.

The change lost them a lot of speed and XV-mon flew until he was hovering just before Nefertimon. Nefertimon drew to a stop, waiting, tense, for XV-mon to make the first move.

Instead of attacking immediately, Motomiya leaned forward over XV-mon’s shoulder and stared Hikari down. “You know, in all honesty, the last thing I was expecting today was you,” Motomiya said.

“Sorry to disappoint,” Hikari said back, tone acidic.

Motomiya’s long resulting silence was unnerving. Iori didn’t like the way Motomiya was watching them, the thoughtful flick of his eyes, the tight line of his mouth. “Why are you here?” he asked finally, his tone coated thick in suspicion.

“What?” Hikari asked.

Motomiya’s suspicion visibly continued to grow. “There’s no towers here,” he said, slow and clear, “There’s no factories. The Empire doesn’t control this area. You, here, _why_?”

“Does that matter? We’re here,” Hikari said.

Motomiya’s head turned, not towards any of them in particular. Back towards the ruin, actually. _Oh, he thinks we’re here for the that_ , Iori realized. Of course, Motomiya didn’t seem to care about the village at all; that left only the ruin of any real importance. 

And it wasn’t like Motomiya was completely wrong; the team _was_ looking into the ruin, and all the other places Motomiya visited. Just not today.

“This is not a game you want to play with me. Not now,” Motomiya said lowly. There was a low wrath in his voice, one that sent a shiver down Iori’s spine. That was new; he’d never heard Motomiya sound like that before. 

_It’s important to him, whatever he’s looking for_ , Iori thought. And Iori had known that before; of course it was important, with all the work Motomiya had been putting into it. But that tone spoke of something much bigger than all of Iori’s theories. Would Motomiya really react like that over a weapon, as Iori had suspected? As he knew a few of the other Chosen suspected?

“Is that so?” Hikari asked, and between the tilt of her head and the tone of her voice, Iori thought she might be thinking the same thing. 

Motomiya huffed and, even with his mask, Iori could the see the frustration taking over. He couldn’t help but grin a little at it, viciously pleased. 

Motomiya shook his head, still the picture of disgruntlement, before looking over all of them. Motomiya stopped, looked right at him; Iori froze. Cold leached through his veins, something he didn’t quite want to call terror.

“Hida,” Motomiya said, sounding almost surprised, though Iori didn’t quite understand why. He doubted Motomiya, as good as he was, had happened to overlook him.

Digmon growled loudly in warning. Iori had half-expected that. What he hadn’t expected was Holsmon suddenly flying in front of him, wings flared to block him from sight. “Leave him alone,” Holsmon ordered. On his back, Miyako sat straight and proud and Iori wished he could see her face.

He could still see Motomiya, despite Holsmon a berth between them. “Now you I really wasn’t expecting,” Motomiya said and something about his voice had Iori on edge. “Honestly, I half thought you wouldn’t be coming back.”

His voice was soft, almost gentle, like he was trying not to alarm Iori. Sudden fury buried the panic still churning through him.

“Of course you didn’t,” Iori scoffed and almost didn’t recognize his voice through his rage. “Unlike you, I’m proud to be a Chosen.”

“You don’t know what being Chosen means,” Motomiya said. His voice was still aiming at gentle, but it didn’t quite manage to hide the sharp-cutting warth returning. “Are you really okay with dying for this world?”

“If it means taking you down, then gladly,” Iori hissed and ignored the soft keen Digmon made.

All that mattered was Motomiya, the tight press of his mouth. He looked angry in what little Iori could see all of his expression. Still, Iori thought there was something strange about his expression, something that didn’t fit in right with the rest of his anger. “Good soldier,” Motomiya said, all snark and scorn.

“Just because you don’t understand sacrifice.”

“Stubborn fool,” Motomiya hissed.

“That’s enough,” Hikari said, low and furious, cutting through their exchange.

“Ah, _come on_ , princess,” Motomiya said and some of the wrath in his voice had been traded for mocking.

Iori bristled at that, that familiar insult, but all Hikari did was smile. “Hey, Daisuke,” she said, easy as anything, “Shut up.”

Motomiya wheeled back a little in shock. Even XV-mon blinked across at her, red eyes briefly shocked, then amused. Then Motomiya settled again, looking across at her with sharp eyes. “So we’re doing this?” Motomiya asked. 

“Guess so,” Hikari agreed. 

Without another word, XV-mon charged forward. Iori stopped breathing as he watched XV-mon charge at him, ice freezing his chest solid. Digmon dodging sharply around the charge knocked him out of his stun. Iori clung to Digmon as they moved, gasping in breaths, shivering suddenly. 

“Iori?” Digmon asked, voice still low enough that others wouldn’t hear.

Iori gulped thickly, pressed his head to Digmon’s smooth carapace; it was cool and, despite the chill under his skin, it felt good. “I’m fine,” he said. He peaked across at the others, found them all still focused on Motomiya. The battle didn’t seem to have begun in honest, just a trading of test blows.

“Are you?”

“Yeah,” he said, though he was still gasping in breaths. It was getting easier though, with Digmon right there, strong and steady and Iori knew he could rely on him. 

“Hold on,” Digmon ordered as XV-mon charged again.

Iori obeyed as Digmon dove to the side again, allowing Holsmon to swoop into their place and chase XV-mon. Iori focused on XV-mon, the bright blue glimmer of him, rather than the black line of Motomiya on his back. That helped control the building knot of panic in his chest, not looking Motomiya straight on.

Apparently, the testing attacks were over. XV-mon charged for Nefertimon again, much faster than before, and clawed her side before she could move away completely. It mostly scrapped off her chestplate, Hikari yanking her leg up out of the way. However, XV-mon managed to gorge a line through her hide just past the armor.

Nefertimon cried out as she flew away, briefly losing altitude. The whole team flew forward; Pegasmon went to support Nefertimon, while Digmon and Holsmon charged at XV-mon. They crossed in front of him, preventing him from pursuing Nefertimon.

“ _Tempest Wing!_ ”

XV-mon twisted out of the way of Holsmon’s attack. Before he could counter attack, Digmon dove at him. XV-mon ducked under them; Iori followed the movement and caught Motomiya’s eyes when he looked up at them. A chill broke out through the hot rage Iori was running on; he tore his gaze away, not able to help but curl into Digmon more.

XV-mon rose again, not hesitating at all before charging at Holsmon. Digmon followed immediately to back Holsmon up.

Iori glanced back, over at where Nefertimon and Pegasmon were hovering near each other. Hikari was pressed close across Nefertimon’s neck, talking to her with a concerned expression. Nefertimon was breathing heavily, sides heaving, but she was holding her position in the air well.

Iori snapped his attention back towards XV-mon after the quick check. Holsmon just managed to duck under XV-mon’s slashing claws, only to be struck in the side by his tail. Holsmon fell several feet. He managed to straighten himself out, but it was closer to the water than Iori liked.

Digmon flew forward, capturing XV-mon attention again before he could force Holsmon into the water. Digmon slammed into XV-mon’s side before he could react. The force snapped Motomiya back, so he clung by one hand, though he righted himself easily enough.

Digmon dropped immediately after charging into XV-mon, such that he just missed the counter-attack. 

XV-mon flew upwards quite a ways then shifted to face downwards at them. “ _X-Laser!”_

They managed to dodge around the attack. It hit the water instead and the force blasted the water upwards. Iori flinched as it rained down on them. There was no time to address it though, as XV-mon was charging back down at them, with the force and speed of the height he’d gained.

“ _Curse of Queen!”_

“ _Silver Blaze!”_

The two attacks sliced through the air, though XV-mon was moving with enough speed he managed to duck just under them. They continued into the water at an angle and caused a odd, muffled noise of impact when they hit the dam wall. Still, the attacks were enough of a distraction that Digmon managed to move out of the way of XV-mon’s dive.

XV-mon pulled out of the dive as soon as he missed, spinning around to face them.

Iori turned to look over his shoulder, watched Nefertimon and Pegasmon fly to his side. Only another few seconds, then Holsmon joined them.

“You okay?” Miyako asked.

“We’re still good,” Nefertimon assured.

“Can I just say,” Holsmon said, “Fighting over all of… _this_? I do not agree with that decision.”

“Noted,” Hikari said. Her eyes were intent on XV-mon and Motomiya. 

Hikari made a quick signal with her hand. Despite his protests, Holsmon didn’t hesitate before obeying. “ _Tempest Wing_!”

The attack flew forward and Nefertimon and Pegasmon flew in its wake, hiding their approach behind it. XV-mon dodged Holsmon’s attack, causing it to impact into the water; XV-mon just managed to change his momentum enough to dodge Nefertimon as well, but Pegasmon slammed into him full on. XV-mon bent over, air knocked out of him again. So soon after Digmon had done the same, and even XV-mon couldn’t recover that quick.

Beneath, the water churned angrily from all the attacks, Holsmon’s creating a whirlpool.

Before any of them could take advantage of XV-mon being stunned, Miyako called, “Uh, Hikari-chan?” in a rising, panicked voice. Iori looked back, found Holsmon hadn’t followed them in the charge to XV-mon. Miyako wasn’t even looking at them, was looking out over the water towards the village. She continued, “I think we fucked up.”

There was an odd sound, like a long, low groan.

“What was that?” Hikari asked. The whole battle had paused, everyone looking around in confusion.

The sound came again, even longer. Iori realized, suddenly, that Miyako wasn’t looking out towards the village. She was looking at the dam wall.

“I think we broke the dam,” Miyako answered.

Iori couldn’t see the damage, but now that he was focusing, the noise did sound much like stone beginning to give way under pressure. Still, not that many of the attacks had hit the dam wall. They couldn’t have done that much damage to it. 

Then again, that was a _lot_ of water pressing against the dam. 

“Will it hold?” Takeru asked.

Motomiya straightened, shoving his mask up as he peered out across the water, squinting at the dam wall. After a second, he pointed, shook his head, and said, “You know, for once, not my fault. _Not my fault_.”

Iori snarled, glaring across at him furiously for the nonchalance. 

The sound again, then of something giving way. Iori could hear clearly the sound of water flooding out. It didn’t seem to be much yet; he couldn’t see any difference in the water below them, not the direction the water was flowing, or any decrease in the water levels. Still, if even a piece of the dam had given way, then the whole structure was at risk. 

“I’m gonna say that’s a no,” Pegasmon said in response to Takeru.

“Hikari,” Takeru said, “The village.”

“Oh yeah, it’s gone,” Motomiya said, still so flippant, like all the lives down there were nothing. Iori wanted to scream at him, hit him, force him to see all the damage he had caused. How many lives he’d destroyed without a care. Iori didn’t though, because all the months of fighting Motomiya had taught him that it couldn’t be done. Motomiya wasn’t the kind of person that could be affected by that- he had to be forced to stop, or he wouldn’t at all.

“Not yet it's not,” Hikari muttered.

“If we’re going to save them, it has to be now,” Takeru said.

Another piece of the dam wall fell noisily away, and the rush of water increased until it roared. Iori could see it, this time-- the flow of water nearest the dam wall as it funneled out.

“That’s it,” Hikari snapped. She nudged Nefertimon forward and leaned into her as she flew forward. Away from Motomiya.

“But Motomiya,” Iori protested, even as Digmon flew after them.

“We have to save the village!” Hikari called.

“We have to stop Motomiya!” Iori shouted back and ignored the wild, shocked look Takeru threw him.

“Not now we don’t!” Hikari shouted. She hadn’t even looked back at him. Her whole focus was ahead of her.

Iori restrained a growl, tucking in closer to Digmon as they followed. Every time they didn’t stop Motomiya, that was another time he could leave to destroy more lives.

XV-mon dropped right into Nefertimon’s way. “Going somewhere?” Motomiya asked.

Nefertimon didn’t hesitate or slow down in the slightest. “Out of the way!” Hikari shouted and put a foot on top of Nefertimon’s back. Iori felt his stomach drop, because he recognized that move. Hikari jumped without a second of thought, barreling full into Motomiya. They both flew back, off XV-mon, and plummeted towards the water. 

XV-mon, distracted and panicked by Motomiya’s fall, didn’t put up any defense against Nefertimon slamming into him, preventing him from reacting to the fall immediately.

Pegasmon had no such problems and dove after Hikari. Takeru grabbed Hikari and yanked her up behind him; Pegasmon pulled up just as XV-mon gathered himself and followed after his partner.

Nefertimon came alongside Pegasmon; Hikari didn’t bother bringing them to a stop before jumping across to Nefertimon. She reseated easily and they continued to fly towards the village.

“That’s not going to stop him,” Miyako called forward.

Iori glanced back, saw XV-mon had caught Motomiya just over the water; Motomiya was busy settling, but that wouldn’t hold his attention for long. “He’s going to come after us,” Iori agreed.

Hikari glanced over her shoulder as well. Iori could see her mouth thin. “Iori-kun, Miyako-chan, hold him off for as long as you can. Takeru and I will get those digimon to safety.”

Digmon spun around to face XV-mon immediately. “With pleasure,” Iori agreed. Holsmon circled then came alongside him.

“Think we can hold him long enough?” Miyako asked, voice quiet, as XV-mon came towards them. Iori didn’t answer, focused wholly on XV-mon. “Iori-kun?”

Iori nudged Digmon forward, so they could meet XV-mon halfway, so they had enough momentum to stop XV-mon and prevent him from pursuing the others. Digmon flew forward obediently. “ _Gold Rush_!”

XV-mon dodged around the attack with no problem and struck out at them with his claws as soon as he was close. Digmon managed to turn out of the way in time, though the claws swiped right in front of Iori’s face. Iori froze, breath freezing in his lungs as those claws passed right in front of his face. Panic burst through his rage, smothered it completely.

Iori pressed himself into Digmon, heart pounding so fast it hurt. He tried to gasp in air around the growing tightness in his chest, tried to calm his heart, but he couldn’t get a grasp on his rising panic. He closed his eyes tightly, pressed his forehead into Digmon’s smooth carapace, as he struggled against the rising panic attack.

He couldn’t freak out here. He had to beat Motomiya. It was the only thing that mattered.

Iori kept repeating it to himself as he peeled back from Digmon, focusing again on XV-mon and Motomiya. XV-mon moved around Holsmon like he was nothing- after all, only one of them wasn’t a threat at all to XV-mon. Holsmon needed their help; Iori had to help. 

Digmon charged XV-mon at Iori’s direction, though Iori could tell he was growing more hesitant of the decision by the second.

Motomiya looked over at them as they charged, though XV-mon kept his eyes on Holsmon. Motomiya’s mask was gone, probably lost somewhere in his fall. Iori’s chest twisted, some mix of panic and anger warring for control, until he felt nauseous. 

XV-mon dodged out of Digmon’s way at the last second, just dropped right out of their way, no doubt following some signal from Motomiya. Digmon didn’t let it bother him, instead flying over so he was once again side by side with Holsmon. “You don’t look good,” Miyako hissed, voice lowered but furious.

Iori didn’t feel good- unsteady with barely controlled panic, sticky with a cold sweat, nauseous with rage- but that wasn’t what was important. “Don’t worry about me.”

Miyako snorted inelegantly. Whatever she was planning to say was cut off by XV-mon; Digmon and Holsmon dodged in opposite directions as XV-mon cut between them. Not quickly enough, and Iori dug his fingers into Digmon’s carapace as XV-mon’s tail slammed into them. Iori thought Holsmon managed to escape XV-mon’s claws, but it was close.

XV-mon pursued them and Digmon had to backpedal seriously to stay out of reach. Holsmon was too far away, trying to wheel around, but the wide wingspan meant it was taking him longer than it did XV-mon. 

XV-mon paused, just for a second, then put on a sudden burst of speed. He breached the distance between himself and Digmon. Despite the sudden speed, Digmon just managed to move out of the way, duck beneath claws and tail. 

Motomiya turned to keep an eye on them as XV-mon passed them by. Iori met his gaze, then dropped his eyes immediately; it felt like Motomiya was looking through him, tearing apart any defense Iori tried to put up. It was terribly vulnerable, which was the last thing Iori wanted to be feeling right then.

Iori stopped breathing as soon as he looked down. The sword-- tucked at Motomiya’s waist, curled into a loop and hidden by the fall of Motomiya’s coat. It was only the twist of Motomiya’s body as he watched them that revealed it.

His heart pounding in his ears was the only thing he could hear. Iori gasped shallowly, then again, then again, more desperate every time. The sword was right there. He couldn’t breathe.

_The sword was right there_.

It would only take a few seconds for Motomiya to draw it. He could run them through in a single pass, when they were focused on XV-mon.

The sword- 

( _Motomiya drew the sword out from under his coat. An odd, low hum filled the air as it snapped into form. Motomiya smirked. “You can keep up, right?”_ )

He couldn’t breathe- 

( _Pain. So much pain. Then a numb shock and the cold._ )

He-

Water.

Iori gasped as the water, ice cold, splashed against the bare skin of his face. He kept gasping in air; everything ached, his chest hollow, heart pounding against his ribs, too fast and painful. There was water still clinging to his face, his mouth, his eyelashes- cool, clean, fresh. So different from the tunnel, the heat of the desert, the dirt in the air.

Iori pressed his cheek against the cool rock underneath him, just tried to keep breathing. His heart was still thundering, hadn’t slowed in the slightest. It hurt, like his chest was too small. He felt frayed still, off-balance and clinging to stability by his fingernails.

He-

He had no idea where he was.

Iori sat up hurriedly, the returning surge of adrenaline making him sick. Digmon was right in front of him, watching him with huge eyes. “Iori?” Digmon asked, voice wobbling, breaking.

Iori gulped thickly, staring up at his partner. Digmon looked more than worried; he looked devastated. Iori’s stomach dropped at Digmon’s obvious distress. “What?” Iori asked, voice coming out rough, thin.

“Oh, thank fuck.”

Iori jumped, heart skipping a painful beat, nerves completely shot. But it was just Takeru, only a little further away than Digmon. Iori stared as Takeru kneeled down next to him, drew a weary hand over his mouth. There was strain written all over him. 

“What?” Iori asked again, a little more desperately now. There was a panic in Takeru’s eyes that rubbed sandpaper over Iori’s nerves. His own confusion was mounting quickly into more panic-- he couldn’t control it. 

“I don’t know,” Takeru said and shrugged, more helpless than anything. “I was clearing out the villagers and then I looked down, and you were here.”

Iori glanced around wildly, breathing spiking without his permission. He didn’t know what had happened. How much had he missed during his panic attack?

He was sitting on an expanse of rock. Water roared on all sides, making the outcropping slick from the splash. The digimon village wasn’t far; he could see the roofs sticking up over the water line, though that water line was slowly but steadily rising. 

The dam loomed above, though it was quite a distance away. He could see the damage to it now; a fissure cracked from the top to halfway down, with bits of concrete occasionally falling beneath the pressure, letting more water out. The damage wasn’t wide, but the dam was holding back so much water that it didn’t matter. It rushed through the openings, flooding down and into the village, still churning angrily and roaring as it flooded across the valley.

“I called you,” Takeru said, “You didn’t respond. It was like you didn’t even realize I was there.” 

Iori hadn’t. He’d been trying so hard to hold off the panic, but he’d been unstable as soon as he saw Motomiya. Seeing that sword, even “sheathed” as it had been, had plummeted him into a panic attack so strong he hadn’t noticed anything outside himself, outside the memory of those tunnels. Hadn't even noticed Digmon flying him away from the battle.

The battle.

Iori stopped breathing, looked up and up, over the dam, searching the skies. He couldn’t see any sign of the battle, of Miyako or Holsmon, XV-mon or Motomiya. Maybe he was just too far away. Maybe something terrible had happened. He looked back down at Takeru with wide eyes, a different kind of fear bubbling up in his chest. “Miyako-san?” Iori asked, demanded, felt hysteria tripping across his tongue. 

“Hikari went to back her up, once we saw you here,” Takeru said, voice softening, aimed to soothe.

That didn’t matter. How long had it taken before they’d noticed him down here? Before Nefertimon could get to Holsmon’s side? He’d left Miyako _alone_. He’d left her alone against Motomiya, against XV-mon.

He was supposed to help her. Support her, carry the things she couldn’t. He’d left her; he’d broken and he’d abandoned her. Frustration and hysteria and a sick sense of failure burned through him, pressed against the back of his eyes. He drew in a sharp breath, hands curling into fists. “Damn it,” he whispered.

He could do this. He knew he could. _He had to_. They relied on him to be the strong one.

“Iori-kun,” Takeru said, voice strained, desperate.

Iori was still breathing too hard, felt like he could cry at any second, but he began pushing himself to his feet anyways. 

“Hey, wow, don’t do that,” Takeru protested, reaching out to stop him. 

Iori batted him away, managing to at least rock up onto his knees. Takeru simply matched him. “I’m fine,” Iori said, voice tight.

“You’re shaking,” Takeru said.

“No, I…” Iori stopped. He was shaking; he couldn’t make it stop. Well, fine, he couldn’t control that; he’d just have to keep going anyway. “I can do this,” he assured.

“Iori-kun, no,” Takeru said. He was still trying to push Iori down without actually pushing him; his expression was twisted, deeply unhappy, and none of the strain or panic Iori had seen before had left.

“I’m fine.”

Takeru’s expression twisted up even more for a second, then something clearly snapped. “ _Enough_ , Iori.”

Iori tumbled back down, staring up at Takeru with wide eyes, shocked at the vehemence, the ungiving force of the words. Takeru sighed heavily, scrubbed both hands over his face, then looked back down at him. His eyes were dark and sad and terrifyingly kind. Something in Iori’s chest splintered under that look. “Enough,” Takeru said again, shaking his head, “You can’t keep doing this, Iori-kun.”

“I’m fine,” Iori insisted, because he was. He was. He had to be. 

“Stop,” Takeru said, but it was too soft to be an order. It felt more like a plea. Iori wilted a little beneath the way Takeru was watching him, the unfaltering kindness and understanding. It felt like Takeru saw everything about him; Iori felt stripped and vulnerable, but not like he had with Motomiya. It felt safe, like it was okay to be vulnerable.

It was hard to keep himself together when faced with something like that. He had already been struggling so hard to do so before.

“I…” Iori said and then couldn’t continue. He gulped, thick, wet, so aware of how he was shaking, breathing roughly around the knot in his throat.

Takeru softened even further. “I know,” he said, so quiet and understanding. “I get it. If you don’t admit it, you don’t have to deal with it. But you can’t keep doing this. You’re going to destroy yourself.”

Iori closed his eyes, tried to block him out. It felt like he was clinging to his composure by his teeth, something bubbling up deep in his chest that threatened to swallow him. “But,” Iori said, but it came out weak and he couldn't keep going. His throat felt thick.

“You don’t have to do this,” Takeru said. Iori opened his eyes to look up at him, not surprised when everything came out blurry and he had to blink back tears. Takeru continued, “And I’m sorry, for whatever we did that convinced you you had to be strong all the time. You don’t. We can handle ourselves, we’ll manage. You don’t have to… carry us. Not like this.”

Iori shook his head, almost desperately. Thought about Miyako, how she’d loosened and relaxed around him, in those days before Full Metal City; how Hikari looked towards him so often, seeking support and strength. How even Takeru had seemed to find some comfort in his presence.

“You’re allowed to be weak, Iori-kun,” Takeru said, fierce and earnest in a way that was almost impossible to argue with. “You don’t always have to be supporting us. Let us carry you for once.”

Iori held Takeru’s eyes, feeling that splintered thing in his chest crack open. Takeru’s words were half-plea, half-promise, worming slowly under his skin, and Iori had no defense against it. Didn’t have the energy to defend against it, or even the wish to at this point. 

Iori’s next breath broke on a sob, everything spiralling together and flooding out. “I’m scared,” he said, admitted to finally, his voice cracking. And the world didn’t fall down, or Takeru, or the team. It was just him, breaking slowly into pieces. 

He’d tried, so hard, to hold it together. But he couldn’t do it. He was scared; he hadn’t wanted to admit it but he was. He was scared of Motomiya and that sword and those tunnels and being underground and in small spaces and of being hurt again and _everything_. He’d refused to admit it, had hoped it would go away if he just ignored it long enough, but it _didn’t_. 

Takeru still looked at him with those dark, sad, kind eyes. The kind of understanding so gentle it hurt to look at. “That’s okay,” Takeru said softly.

“I don’t- I don’t know what to do,” Iori said. He was scared. He was so scared he was drowning in it.

“That’s okay too.”

Iori bowed his head, couldn’t keep looking at Takeru. Tears slipped out, beyond his control. “I don’t know if I can do this,” he said, though acknowledging it felt like he was ripping a hole into himself. But Miyako had had to fight by herself because he didn’t want to admit he couldn’t face Motomiya; he’d put her in so much danger. He couldn’t do that again.

“Iori-kun,” Takeru said, gently coaxing. But Iori shook his head, refused to look up. He heard Takeru sigh, then a hand fell on his shoulder. “I’m here. Whatever help you need, or even just want, you can have it. I’m here for you. I promise.”

Iori sniffed, trying to breathe through the tears and the clog in his throat. He leaned forward until his head impacted Takeru’s shoulder. Takeru immediately wrapped both arms around him, pulling him into a true hug. Iori held onto the last of his composure for only a second, then broke down fully, sobbing thickly into Takeru’s shoulder. 

He hadn’t let himself cry like this since he’d woken up. It felt good.

“Iori,” Digmon said, so soft. 

Iori’s chest ached and he pulled away from Takeru. Takeru probably understood what he wanted, because he immediately let go. Iori turned and reached for Digmon; Digmon was too hard to be easily huggable but Iori didn’t care and buried in against his chest. Digmon surrounded him, like nothing in the world would get through him to Iori. Iori closed his eyes and went lax against him.

“Takeru,” he heard Pegasmon say, “We can’t stay. The water.”

“I know. It’s still rising,” Takeru said, “This rock won’t be here soon. Digmon, can you carry him?”

“Always,” Digmon said. Iori wasn’t really surprised when Digmon immediately picked him up. Iori didn’t move to protest, remained pressed in close to Digmon’s chest

They flew up slowly; Iori squinted out across the water through blurry eyes. The fissure in the dam had widened, more water rushing out. The water level was slow in rising, given the wide area, but the ground had already been completely lost beneath the mass. The real danger was in how fast the water was moving; if one fell in, they’d be dragged under and lost.

If Iori looked hard, really focused, he could see Nefertimon and Holsmon fighting XV-mon. He couldn’t tell how his team was doing, if Holsmon and Miyako had been hurt badly while they were on their own.

Digmon followed Pegasmon up the mountain, until they were well over the water, almost even with the top of the dam wall. Then Pegasmon began to circle for a landing, going down over a plateau. A lot of the digimon from the village were there, staring down at the drowned out remains of their homes.

They landed easily; Takeru jumped off immediately, though Iori took longer to follow. He felt shaky, unsteady on his feet, vulnerable still. He leaned back into Digmon once he was on his feet, watched as Takeru tried to quickly reassure the Child digimon who went to talk to him. Everyone looked scared, unsure, distressed. It felt like he should already be too full, too worn, for more, but his heart still ached for them. 

After another second, Takeru walked over to him. He looked frustrated and kept glancing down at the village. Iori’s stomach sank with realization. “Are there still digimon down there?” he asked. Had Takeru and Hikari had to change priorities to help him? How many had been abandoned down there?

“Maybe,” Takeru said, “There are digimon missing. Everything down there happened so fast. It doesn’t matter.”

“It does though,” Iori said and he felt so tired.

“You matter,” Takeru said, “And I promised I’d help you.”

“You have,” Iori assured, “Right now, I just- I’m good here, with Digmon. As long as _he’s_ over there and I’m not. You know you need to go.”

Takeru bit his lip, obviously frustrated. “I wanted-” he paused, closed his eyes, shook his head. “This is such a mess.”

“Takeru-san, please, I…” Iori paused, took a deep breath, then admitted, “If those digimon get hurt because everyone's too busy protecting me, I’ll never forgive myself.”

Takeru sighed and his shoulders dropped. “Okay, yeah. I get that. We’ll talk later,” Takeru promised. 

“I think I’d like that,” Iori agreed.

Takeru smiled, not wholly happy, and clutched his shoulder. “Don’t do anything dumb and heroic, understand?”

“I’ll try,” he promised, though he felt so drained he couldn’t imagine performing any heroics at this point. 

Takeru hesitated for another second, then climbed back up onto Pegasmon’s back. The two flew off, back down to the village.

Iori hesitated a moment, indecisive about what he should be doing now. It felt wrong to do nothing while his team fought. But he couldn’t face Motomiya, not right now, while he still felt so fragile. He would be an easy target; he’d just put everyone at risk.

He huffed and sat down. He didn’t have much of a choice. There wasn’t much he could do from here. Digmon shifted about behind him, finding a position where he could immediately jump to everyone’s defense if he had to. It still allowed Iori to lean back against him, so he did, closing his eyes. He could feel the attention of the other digimon with him, could hear them talking though he couldn’t make out the words. If he wasn’t so tired, he’d probably care.

It was weight falling into his lap that made him jump. He looked down quickly, heart stuttering, and found a Puroromon sitting on his legs. The baby digimon looked up at him with huge eyes, little wings fluttering, and Iori relaxed again. Porurumon floated up a bit, only to reach forward and pat at his cheek gently. It’s eyes were very sad.

It took Iori a second to realize the little digimon was trying to brush away the tear tracks still on his cheeks. Iori smiled, a little painful, at the care; it didn’t even matter that the Child digimon were still watching him unsurely, a little suspiciously. “Thank you,” he whispered. 

Porurumon smiled back at him, a face-splitting kind of smile. Some of the sick feeling in his stomach eased away, warmed through

A loud noise snapped his attention upwards. He watched as another fissure in the dam splintered off the first and large chunks of concrete fell into the water. The amount of water roaring out from the dam tripled at the least. 

Iori stood, Porurumon fluttering up to sit on his shoulder, and looked down into the village. He could make out Pegasmon, flying just above the waterline, trying to keep level with the village roofs without being swept away. Iori gulped as he watched, wincing every time a cresting wave got closer to Pegasmon than he liked. 

He looked away, towards where the others were fighting. He watched as Nefertimon obviously broke from the fight, trying to head for Pegasmon, only for XV-mon to follow and cut her off. Holsmon made an attempt as well, to the same result. With the amount of water rushing out, it would only be a few minutes before the whole village was under water. Takeru and Pegasmon would need help to rescue the digimon still in the village, Iori thought; even if it was only Baby and Child digimon, Pegasmon would only be able to carry so many. But Motomiya seemed determined to keep the others from providing that support.

Iori grit his teeth as he watched them struggle. Digimon were going to die, but of course Motomiya didn’t care. Iori couldn’t even figure out why he was putting so much effort into getting in their way. The digimon here were so young, not a threat at all. The village was of no concern to Motomiya, so why put so much effort into stopping the Chosen from helping them? It was so pointlessly malicious. 

Nefertimon managed to break far enough to fly over the village; XV-mon followed. Iori watched as XV-mon actually broke off from Nefertimon, instead angling after Pegasmon. Iori watched as Pegasmon had no choice but to abandon the village just to escape XV-mon. 

_Why_ , Iori thought harshly, _why punish these digimon so harshly? What have they ever done? Is it because we’re the ones trying to help them?_

Had they finally made themselves that much of a nuisance? Hikari had said so, but they’d spent so long with Motomiya treating them with an amused tolerance that it had been hard to conceptualize. What had they done recently to upset Motomiya so bad that he was willing to sentence so many uninvolved digimon to that kind of horrifying death? Had the city hurt them that much? Their actions afterwards hadn’t shown such. It had to be something more recent.

_The ruin_ , Iori realized with a start, remembering the dark suspicion on Motomiya’s face. _He thinks we’re after them. He wants to stop us, the village dying probably doesn’t even register._

The mutterings of the digimon behind him suddenly built into a dull roar, snapping him out of his thoughts. The digimon quickly shushed themselves, though Iori could figure out what they were talking about. All three active Chosen had been drawn away from the village and Iori was up with them, useless. No one was helping the rest of the village.

Iori’s sigh was more of a sob, half-frustration, half-resignation. There was an ache across the whole of him, from the panic attack, from the crying; he wanted to lay down and sleep until it went away and he felt normal again. 

But he was a Chosen; despite his problems, everything that had happened, he enjoyed it. He didn’t want to stop. He was _proud_ to be that. 

He picked up Puroromon and set it down, then turned to Digmon. “Let’s go,” he said.

Digmon’s eyes widened. “What?”

“They need help. They can’t fight Motomiya and protect the digimon. We have to back them up,” Iori said and was aware of how tired and unconvincing he sounded.

“You want to fight Motomiya again? Already?” Digmon asked then shook his head rapidly. “No, I won’t help you. I won’t let you put yourself through that again.”

“I can’t just stand here and do nothing,” Iori said, “I have to help.”

“You can’t face him again. You’re not ready,” Digmon said.

He knew that, he did. He was sure the idea would have him shaking if he had the energy for it. Even as tired as he was, he could feel something in him trembling already. He had no idea if he’d even be able to look Motomiya in the eye, now that he had admitted to himself just how terrified he was of the other boy. It had been easier when he’d been pretending he had everything under control. But that didn’t change how much his teammates needed his help if they weren’t going to lose half the village.

“I don’t have a choice,” he said.

“That’s not true,” Digmon said fiercely. “Why do we have to fight Motomiya? We’re just trying to save the village, right?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Then let’s just save them. We don’t have to fight to do that. The others can hold off XV-mon well enough.”

Iori gulped, staring up at Digmon’s wide eyes, the concern so evident on his face, and found himself nodding. “Right, you’re… right. Let’s do that.”

The relief that exploded across Digmon’s face almost hurt. Iori felt guilty as he watched, wondering how much he had worried his partner, how long he hadn’t noticed the obvious distress. Iori swallowed it down to deal with later, then climbed onto Digmon’s shoulder. They flew down to the slowly submerging village.

As they got closer to the village, Iori could see the digimon still there. They were piled together on roofs, tucked close to each other to avoid the waves crashing against the sides of the house. The rushing water seemed so much worse up close. The sheer _noise_ of it was deafening. The water reached across the valley, swift and terrifying, causing the buildings to sway as it crashed against them.

Digmon flew to one of the taller buildings, where three little Tanemon were huddling. Digmon hovered as far down and as close to the building as he dared; Iori leaned out towards the Tanemon, one arm outstretched before him. His other hand was clenched around the edge of Digmon’s carapace as he struggled to keep himself in place and not fall off. He’d really like to not fall; he’d probably be swept a mile away by the water before Digmon could react. 

The Tanemon watched him for a long moment, shaking and on the edge of tears. Then, slowly, one crept as close to the edge of the roof as she dared and jumped. Iori caught Tanemon, barely, and immediately yanked himself back into Digmon. He took a second to gulp in air, then carefully placed Tanemon next to him on Digmon’s shoulder and leaned out for the other two. Having seen the first one successfully caught, the others didn’t hesitate as much before jumping towards him.

With the three safely in place, Digmon flew up again. There really wasn’t much room for more digimon to sit without risking one of them falling, so Digmon started flying back up towards the plateau. 

It was much slower going than Iori would have prefered. They couldn’t carry many digimon with them without risking one falling and Digmon just wasn’t that fast, especially compared to the other members of the team. There was only so much they could do.

They flew back down, this time heading for a smaller house near the edge of the village. Iori’s stomach dropped as they got closer and he could make out the house: not only did it no longer look structurally sound, but there were at least six digimon huddling on top of it. Two were definitely Child digimon, just from their size. 

Iori bit his lip as they flew in closer, looking over the whole group. He tried to calculate a way to carry them all in one go, but it escaped him. He wasn’t sure they could do it even if they risked someone falling off in the placement. 

When Digmon leveled out next to the house, Iori leaned out and shouted across at them, “I can’t carry all of you. Not at once.”

The two Child digimon glanced at each other and Iori watched something infinitely sad cross their faces. “Take the Babies,” Floramon said, “We can wait.”

Iori went to agree, but was cut off the the house shifting, crumbling a little beneath the force of the water. Iori winced, swaying back into Digmon so he could take another look at the building. It was worse off than he’d originally assumed; the whole thing was probably going to collapse soon. He actually wasn’t sure if it would be able to hold together long enough for Digmon to take the Babies up to the plateau and then get back down to the Child digimon.

They definitely couldn’t carry all of them in one go, but Iori wasn’t comfortable with risking the lives of the Child digimon. If they only had a bit more room. He huffed out a breath. “Digmon, don’t argue.”

“Oh, I already don’t like this,” Digmon said.

“You can’t carry all of them and me. Set me down.”

“I am not leaving you here. That thing looks like it's about to collapse.”

“Which is why we need to get them out of here immediately,” Iori insisted.

Digmon made an annoyed sound and Iori could practically feel him vibrating. “You owe me so many desserts for all of this,” Digmon muttered, then looked down at the digimon huddling on the roof. “Don’t move.”

To Iori’s shock, Digmon began to fly up and away from the roof. “What are you doing?” he demanded.

“I’m not leaving you _there_ ,” Digmon said, voice stiff. Digmon flew away from the village, to where the valley sloped up into the mountain, where the rock peaked over the thrashing water. Digmon landed there and gently shifted him about until Iori got the idea and jumped off. Digmon said, “You should be safe here. I’ll be back once those guys are good.”

Iori nodded. “Digmon,” he called, before Digmon could fly very far away. “I take up too much room and too much weight. I’m safe here for a while. Get everyone out of there first.”

“Yeah. Come get me after. I’ll be fine, I’m still pretty high up.”

Digmon hesitated another second, then nodded, knowing that Iori had a point. 

Iori watched Digmon fly away, back to the village. He sighed and sat down, preparing to wait for Digmon to finish the long flights up and down the mountain. He turned his attention to the dam, though he was far enough away that the water hid any smaller changes to the damage. At least he could tell no new fissures had appeared or chunks of concrete broken off. 

The water rose steadily and Iori wondered how many more trips Digmon would be able to make before the village was completely submerged. It probably wouldn’t be many; any other member of the team was much better suited for this kind of fast work. But he and Digmon were the ones doing it, so they’d have to find a way to manage.

Iori turned his attention to where the rest of his team was still fighting Motomiya and XV-mon. It was impossible to tell the specifics of the fight from where he was, far away and from the wrong angle. He could just see them dodging around each other, their attacks bright flashes of light. He had to primarily focus on his team, because XV-mon was next to impossible to track, too fast and almost invisible against the sky.

He kept watching as the fight drew ever closer to the village, though he thought that had stopped being the goal by then. Everyone seemed completely focused on the fight, leaving the village to him. The fight got closer; XV-mon was hard enough to track that he didn’t realize quite how close until said digimon flew past practically overhead. Iori flattened himself to the ground, stomach dropping at how close it was-- and he was defenseless.

Despite his concerns, XV-mon flew past like he didn’t even see Iori. Iori relaxed a little, sitting up so he could keep an eye on them. Not more than that, though; no sense drawing attention to himself if no one had realized he was there. There were more traded blows, though very few that landed, then the direction of the battle changed back towards the village.

Iori flattened again, though with less concern than the first time. The battle passed by again and Iori once again sat up to track it. He didn’t even realize something was wrong until- 

“Yo.”

Everything in Iori went very, very cold, from very deep in his being. A trembling started, one he hoped wasn’t visible. Slowly, with a kind of distant, numb horror, he stood and turned around.

Motomiya wasn’t right behind him, which held a kind of relief; he was standing on a distant, different rock outcropping, one that was separated from Iori’s own by a several foot drop into rising water and was not easily jumped across.

Iori froze, staring across at him, because even as far apart as they were, with no way for Motomiya to reach him, Motomiya there at all was too close for his nerves.

Looking at him had been easier to handle before Iori had admitted he was terrified of him. As it was, Iori found his breathing picking up without his control, cold sweat breaking out again. A dull pain in his chest began to build again. Iori flicked his eyes about: the others were still fighting XV-mon, might not have noticed Motomiya separating during the flyover. Digmon? Probably still flying up the mountain. Iori tried to calculate how long it would take him to fly back, but it was so hard to focus. Motomiya had the kind of presence that wasn’t easy to ignore.

“You okay there, Hida?” Motomiya called.

Iori snapped his eyes back to Motomiya, found the other boy watching him with those familiar, too sharp eyes. The ones that felt like they were pealing him apart, finding all of his soft parts. He hated those eyes, and found himself shrinking away from them. He could feel the shaking growing more pronounced, a second panic attack building.

And no, no, he didn’t want to be that vulnerable, that weak, in front of this boy. Nevermind that Motomiya had already seen his last panic attack. He didn’t want it. Why couldn’t Motomiya just leave him alone?

“What do you want?” Iori asked, in a voice that rasped out. He focused on the distance between them, because that eased the rational fear. There was still the irrational, the fear of Motomiya’s sheer presence, but at least with that distance his primary focus, he could hold off a full panic attack. He still rode the edge of one, but he could control it.

“Don’t worry. I’m not here to fight,” Motomiya said. Iori watched him pause, then glance over at where the others were still fighting XV-mon. “Well, not fight you, at least.”

Iori stepped back until he was near the edge. It put more distance between them, which helped ease the knot in his chest , made it easier to breathe. So he took a deep breath, which tasted enough of the clean, cold water they were surrounded by that more of his panic slipped away. He wasn’t in the tunnels; Motomiya couldn’t touch him.

Motomiya, by himself, as harmless as the terrain could make him-- Iori thought he could handle that without collapsing. Maybe not well, with the strength he would have had before, but he could do it. Just as long as that sword didn’t come out.

“What do you want?” he asked again and his breathing was under enough control now that the words came out with some force.

Motomiya didn’t say anything for a long moment. He just watched Iori and there was something terribly gentle in his eyes. That too sharp knowing got wrapped up behind it, so it didn’t cut as hard. Iori wasn’t sure what to do with that. Finally, Motomiya sighed heavily and shrugged. “Well, honestly, I am just impressed.”

Iori was aware of his expression twisting in disbelief, but he couldn’t help it.

Motomiya gave a little huff of a laugh. “I mean, it was impressive enough, you coming back, before I realized. That you… you’re terrified.”

The words should have been proud, arrogant, so goddamn _smug_ about the effect Motomiya had. Motomiya had never seemed to mind before that effect, had even seemed to take a kind of pride in the fear he could inspire. A certain glee in being the Digital World’s boogeyman. 

There was none of that here. From the set of his shoulders to the dark cast of his eyes to the tone of his voice, Motomiya seemed more regretful than anything. 

Was it real? Motomiya had once pretended a perfect picture of grief so no one would guess his continued connection to Ichijouji; had spent years fooling the Yagami’s so effectively it still had them twisted about. How much of Motomiya’s softness could be trusted?

Anger sparked at the thought, briefly drowning out the fear. What had Motomiya planned with that softness? To twist him up like he had the Yagami’s?

“I’m not afraid of you,” Iori bit out, this time with nothing but force. It didn’t even matter that he knew it was a lie this time. He would not be weak in front of this boy. He _refused_. He would not give Motomiya that kind of power over him.

Besides, angry as he was, the fear seemed a distant thing. As long as he was angry, he could face Motomiya.

Despite his words, despite his tone, Motomiya’s expression didn’t change. Motomiya just kept looking at him with an expression that was gentle, almost sympathetic. _Understanding_ , and Iori shivered with rage at the assumption that Motomiya could ever understand. “It’s alright to be afraid, you know,” Motomiya said, still so gentle. 

“What would you know?” Iori demanded, more in reaction to that _look_ than the actual words.

Iori didn’t really understand the slight smile that crossed Motomiya’s face- not his usual arrogance, or anything happy, only barely matching the soft sympathy on his face. It was something tired, weary. “I’m the Child of Courage. I, of all people, understand the kind of power fear has.”

“Of course you do,” Iori said with poison, “I’ve seen what you do with fear.”

Motomiya paused and then shrugged, wordless. 

Iori watched him, a sick poisonous feeling in his stomach. “Are you not even going to apologize?” he demanded after a second, when he could no longer stand how Motomiya was looking at him. If Motomiya was going to look at him with an expression that read of regret and compassion, then the least he could do was say sorry. Even if it was a lie.

“Would that help?” Motomiya asked and he seemed geniunely curious. Like maybe all it would take was Iori saying it would for Motomiya to give him just that. “Would anything, right now?”

“You never know,” Iori said, glaring across at him.

Motomiya somehow made his eyes sadder. “I’m sorry,” he said in a voice that actually, really sold it. All remorse and apology. “I would do anything to undo it.”

It didn’t help, even as convincing as it was. The mix of fear and rage in his chest didn’t ease in the slightest, kept twisting tighter together so Iori felt a little sick and shaky with it. “Yeah, you’re right,” Iori said with all the venom he could muster. Apparently it was a lot. “Doesn’t help.”

Motomiya nodded, not looking surprised. The remorse didn’t fade immediately, such that Iori felt some of his certainty crack a little. Maybe that remorse was real; maybe Motomiya wasn’t completely faking it to fuck with him. But, Iori supposed, the remorse could be real and Motomiya could still be using it to mess with him. He wouldn’t put it past Motomiya to feel bad but still be willing to do worse. 

“It doesn’t stop,” Motomiya said, in a voice that was oddly companionable. “This won’t be the last time you get hurt.”

“You planning to try to kill me again?” Iori asked, like the idea didn’t cause his heart to start slamming against his ribs. Motomiya had come so close last time; Iori knew he wouldn’t survive a second attempt. 

Iori made himself take another deep breath, focus on the smell of the water- more importantly, on the hot anger that had briefly been buried under the fear. Motomiya was the reason Iori felt so weak and vulnerable, he was the one who had threatened and continued to threaten his team and Iori himself. If he just remembered that, he could stay angry.

As long as he was angry, he didn’t have to be afraid. He could keep fighting.

“Not purposely,” Motomiya said with a sardonic little grin, “But you never know. Another mine might explode.”

Iori grimaced a little at the mention of the mine, the explosion. The casual way Motomiya mentioned it, like his head hadn’t smashed in; like Ichijouji hadn’t said he should have died. Iori wasn’t sure what was worse: Motomiya probably actually having an understanding of what Iori was going through, or the blase way he mentioned almost dying. Like it was nothing. Like it was ordinary.

Worse though was the words themselves, the idea that it would happen again. A part of him insisted Motomiya was still trying to fuck with him; another heard Motomiya’s tone and thought it took experience to shrug almost dying off the way Motomiya seemed to. 

It could happen again, Iori supposed Motomiya was right about that. They fought all the time; luck would give out eventually. Nausea mixed with the fear and the anger at the idea. He wanted to collapse, to black out until it all went away. He wanted to run away, because he couldn’t imagine going through this again and coming out of it whole. 

Iori closed his eyes to block out Motomiya’s understanding and tried to shake off the thoughts. Instead thought about his team; Takeru promising he could rely on them to take care of him. They’d have his back, if he wanted to keep going, which was more than Motomiya had.

And he did want to keep going. There was a vase of flowers next to his bed that he didn’t think was ever going to wilt- the memory of the good he’d done; that the Digital World still appreciated its Chosen despite the Empire’s actions; that he was making a true, noticeable difference. 

If the team had his back, then he wanted to keep going. He would keep going- it was just a matter of figuring out a way he could fight Motomiya without collapsing. “That doesn’t change anything,” Iori said, opening his eyes to stare Motomiya in the eye. “I meant it when I said I’m happy to be a Chosen.”

That carefully soft thing on Motomiya’s face cracked at the edges, revealing a dark anger. Iori shivered. Still, Motomiya was clearly trying to hide the reaction, so Iori doubted he was going to make a move against him. When he spoke, his voice was rough with concealed fury, “...Idiot.”

Motomiya looked away from him, lips pressing into a thin line, and shook his head. Whatever he was thinking, it didn’t distract him for long. Motomiya looked back at him, and more of that anger was visible on his face. “You that ready to die?” 

Iori didn’t answer.

He didn’t seem to need to. Motomiya scoffed, expression twisting even more. “Of course. Perfect little Chosen.”

Iori stared over at him, taking in that slowly revealing anger, how it completely destroyed the gentleness he’d previously displayed. “At least I’m not like you. You don’t care about anyone but yourself. You’re a monster.”

“You know, normally I’d say that’s fair,” Motomiya said. The last of that soft, careful thing was gone from his face, in its place a kind of ugly poison. “But I’m not the one who almost left a whole village to drown just to take down one man.”

Iori went very, very still. The cold suddenly had nothing to do with his fear.

“I mean, damn Hida. You’re really focused on taking me down. I’m curious. How far are you willing to go to do so? You know what they say about hunting monsters,” Motomiya continued. There was nothing curious about him, however. Just the anger, the twist of his mouth that was half-snarl, half-smirk-- leaving no doubt that Motomiya knew what he was saying, the effect of it. That the whole thing was designed to hurt.

“It’s not-” Iori tried to protest, but the words stuck in his mouth.

“Not like that?” Motomiya finished for him and the twist of his mouth evened out into a sardonic little grin. “Not what you meant? You sure? Cause, oh, that’s how it sounded.”

Iori gulped thickly, wanting to keep protesting. He hadn’t meant it like that. He hadn’t meant- They needed to take Motomiya down. That was what mattered. But he hadn’t meant-

Iori stopped because- because there was no way to spin that. It had been Motomiya or the village. If Hikari hadn’t been there, he would have continued pursuing Motomiya and the whole village would be gone. It wouldn’t have been intentional; he hadn’t thought of it in those terms at the time. But the result would have been the same.

He was going to throw up.

“Iori!”

Iori started at the call, looking up wildly. Digmon. Iori let out a sound of relief as he saw his partner flying towards him quickly. He reached out both arms towards Digmon, who didn’t slow at all in his approach, just flew in, grabbed Iori, and flew back out. Iori tucked himself fully against Digmon, hiding his face in Digmon’s shoulder. Like this, he didn’t have to see Motomiya, the vicious, knowing eyes. 

“Are you okay?” Digmon asked.

Iori didn’t answer, just pressed in closer. It wasn’t comfortable with Digmon’s carapace, but Iori didn’t care. Digmon felt safe. 

“You’re shaking really badly,” Digmon said in a soft voice. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have left you there. If I’d known you’d be alone with him again-”

“It’s fine,” Iori said quietly, because he didn’t like the devastated, guilty tone Digmon was using.

“It’s not. You really don’t look good,” Digmon protested, “Are you going to have another panic attack?”

Iori shook his head. He felt like a mess but he didn’t think he was going to have another full out panic attack. 

He could hear the others calling his name now. He slowly lifted his head, watched as the rest of the team flew to him. XV-mon didn’t stop them this time; he was himself flying down to Motomiya, eyes watching Digmon carefully. They were still rather close to Motomiya, Iori thought, and motioned Digmon to fly back.

Digmon did so obediently; the rest of the team moved to meet him.

“You’re okay?” Hikari demanded.

Iori nodded. It didn’t seem to matter much, because everyone kept staring at him. Iori cleared his throat, pushed himself up away from the safety of Digmon’s side a little, and tried to say in a strong voice, “I’m fine. I, I will be.”

“If you’re sure,” Miyako said slowly, looking uncertain.

Iori nodded, though he wasn’t really trying to be convincing. From the way Takeru was watching him, it was doing nothing. They were all watching him that way actually. Iori sighed, then realized- everyone was here with him. “The village?” he asked, looking over at Hikari with wide eyes.

“It’s good,” Digmon said for her. “I got the last out. There weren’t that many left.”

Iori leaned back fully into Digmon in relief.

“Done playing hero?” Motomiya called. He tucked both hands in his pockets and looked up at them, apparently unconcerned.

Both Pegasmon and Nefertimon flew in front of Digmon, blocking Iori from view once again. Takeru looked back at him, eyes soft and concerned. “Are you okay?” Takeru asked.

Iori nodded, then shook his head, then finally shrugged. He wasn’t sure how he could describe the twisted mess in his stomach, or admit to the guilt building with every second. Takeru’s expression gentled further. “He didn’t touch me,” Iori finally said, because he could at least ease that worry. “All he did was talk.”

“With Motomiya, that’s generally the problem,” Takeru said, “He talks.”

Iori didn’t answer, looking down at Motomiya, still on that rock. XV-mon was in the air above him, ready to respond to anything. Motomiya’s expression was bland unconcern as he stared up at them. It was hard to say how much of that was true, but there wasn’t a single crack in the mask that gave it away as a lie. Motomiya, surrounded, on the low ground, on decidedly unfriendly terrain, looked nothing less than completely confident in his safety and victory.

Iori had the high ground, a whole team willing to jump to his defense, and he still felt like shaking apart. He hated it, hated feeling so vulnerable all the time, hated how Motomiya unsettled him, dug out all his weak points. Hated that Motomiya could stand his his current position and not be afraid at all. He hated that, he hated it; he’d give _anything_ to take that away.

Iori cut the thought off violently, shaking increasing until he had no choice but to collapse against Digmon. _Anything_? He thought with a distant kind of dread and horror. _Like what Motomiya said? Like the village?_

The wave of nausea hit so hard he had to fight not to gag. He closed his eyes, hunching into himself, shaking hard enough Digmon made a worried sound about him falling off. Iori didn’t care so much, instead focused on chasing down that thought. Motomiya had been right, about a terrifying number of things.

“Iori?” he heard Hikari call, though her voice was lowered so Motomiya didn’t hear. He ignored it, didn’t respond, because it wasn’t important right now. What was important was- he didn’t want to be the kind of person Motomiya had hinted at, who could throw so much away without a second thought. He didn’t _want_ that. 

Iori _had_ been focused on Motomiya lately, been totally consumed. And he would have sacrificed the village if it meant taking Motomiya down; an unintentional sacrifice, maybe, but only because the village _hadn’t mattered_ next to Motomiya. He’d wanted, so much, not just to defeat Motomiya, but to tear him down, make him feel weak.

Which wasn’t like him. He didn’t want that to be like that. 

The sound of wings drew him from his thoughts. He blinked out the wetness in his eyes, looked up. Holsmon and Nefertimon were charging XV-mon, reengaging the fight. Pegasmon was still right in front of him, giving Iori cover while he broke down. Iori watched XV-mon swing up out of the way of the attacks, leaving Motomiya on his rock out of the way. The others ignored Motomiya, focusing on XV-mon; reasonable, Iori supposed, since a wrong move in Motomiya’s direction could end with him falling.

“Takeru-san?” he asked, his voice coming out weak. Takeru looked back at him with that sad, sympathetic expression; Pegasmon remained wholly focused on the battle before him, tense and alert should attention switch to them. Iori hesitated, trying to find the words for what he wanted, then asked, “Have I… I’ve been angry lately, haven’t I? Really angry?”

Takeru blinked at him slowly, clearly confused, then sighed. He scratched at the back of his neck, looking uncomfortable. “I, yeah, lately,” Takeru said after a second. “But it’s not like it’s not understandable. After what you went through.”

_Is it?_ Iori thought to himself, _With what I was willing to do?_

Takeru clearly hesitated himself, before saying, “When I… first lost Patamon, I was angry for a long time too. It took me a long time, to figure out how to deal with it.”

Pegasmon’s attention briefly left the fight at the sound of his name. “Takeru…” Pegasmon said in a quiet, mournful tone.

“It’s alright. I’m good now,” Takeru assured, patting Pegasmon’s neck. Takeru looked back at him. “What I mean is, I get it.”

“Tell me about it, sometime?” Iori asked.

“Yeah,” Takeru agreed softly, “Yeah, I think I’d like that.”

Iori nodded, watching as Holsmon, Nefertimon, and XV-mon chased each other through the air. The fact that it was two-on-one didn’t seem to be fazing XV-mon at all; it never did. But the two were managing to avoid the heavy hits, creating a battle that was almost even. Iori wished he could help, but he also felt about ready to collapse; everyone, including Digmon, would have to protect him.

And also, he didn’t… quite trust himself facing Motomiya. Another panic attack was always a possibility, especially if Motomiya made a threatening move. But also a possibility was Iori taking it too far, putting everyone at risk just to hurt Motomiya.

Looking at it closely, aware he’d almost crossed a line, Iori could pinpoint where everything had gone wrong. He hadn’t left himself any room to be weak, since he’d taken on the full responsibility of supporting the team. He hadn’t _wanted_ to be weak, hated the feeling. Focusing on Motomiya, on being angry with him and what he’d done, that had made it easier. Had made it so he didn’t have to focus on his own problems. He’d made Motomiya the centerpiece for everything that was wrong- if he could just take Motomiya down, the Empire down, everything else would be better. 

He’d let everything spiral, made everything spiral, until he was more concerned about defeating Motomiya than he was protecting people. 

Miyako screamed, suddenly. Iori snapped his attention back to the fight and watched as XV-mon rammed straight into Holsmon. Holsmon and Miyako fell. And fell. Nefertimon dived after, almost vertical in the attempt to reach her. But they weren’t high enough to gain any speed. Holsmon and Miyako hit the water; Nefertimon barely pulled up in time not to join them.

Underneath the water, there was a great explosion of light-- Holsmon dedigivolving. 

Iori pushed himself as high as he could go without falling off, scanning for them. The water was moving so fast though- his stomach disappeared as he tried to imagine them caught in the current.

There was a pause, a long heartbeat of nothing, then Miyako broke the water with a cry. She was already several dozen feet away, the current sweeping her further. It seemed to be taking all her strength just stay afloat, let alone fight the current.

“Shit,” Takeru hissed and Pegasmon dove after her.

“Digmon, go,” Iori ordered.

Digmon didn’t listen, was instead still scanning the water around them. “Hawkmon,” Digmon said in a tight, worried voice and began to climb higher so he could see more. “I still don’t see him. He isn’t meant for the water.”

Iori gulped thickly, looking around quickly but also seeing no sign of Hawkmon. He looked back at Miyako, watched as Nefertimon drew up alongside Pegasmon. Together, Hikari and Takeru reached down and pulled Miyako out of the water; she ended up behind Hikari, bent over and coughing violently. When she looked up, Iori could see blood streaked down the left side of her face.

“ _Hawkmon!”_ she screamed, voice cracking. “ _Hawkmon!_ ”

Pegasmon broke off from Nefertimon’s side, flying low over the water so Takeru could lean over and search for Hawkmon.

Iori turned away when he heard XV-mon’s voice, checking to make sure Motomiya wasn’t taking advantage of the situation. He wasn’t; he was still watching everything from his rock, posture unchanged. His expression was drawn, no more bland disinterest, though Iori couldn’t read it. Tense, definitely, but not what Iori would call concern.

XV-mon had returned to hovering above him; he did look concerned, red eyes huge as he watched Miyako scream. “Oops,” XV-mon said, “I think I overdid it.”

Motomiya made a sound of agreement.

Iori couldn’t stop his own little stricken noise, watching them. Just how unconcerned they seemed, how unaffected. Iori couldn’t imagine it, when listening to Miyako’s voice break felt like it was shredding into him. How did you hear that and not be affected?

Motomiya glanced up at him, noticed the attention; a cool smirk crossed his face. “What? Going to fight me?” he asked, like the idea was laughable.

It _was_ a laughable idea, Digmon trying to take XV-mon on on his own. But that wasn’t the point of the words; Iori could hear the insinuation _leave your team to drown to fight_ loud and clear.

“No,” Iori said, mostly to himself, shaking his head. Then, louder, spitting the words out with as much strength as he had left at the moment, “No, you’re not worth that.”

“Really?” Motomiya asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I went after you because I was afraid of you, and afraid to admit it,” Iori admitted, and let that fear break through into the words. He doubted he’d ever hid it from Motomiya, not really; what was the point trying to hide it at all then? Especially when he didn’t like who all that anger was making him. “But I would rather be terrified every day of my life than be like you.”

Motomiya sighed, then looked up at him. Iori expected a lot of different reactions: anger, simple annoyance, amusement, even disinterest. Instead, something… warm, almost soft, entered his eyes. “You are… stupidly noble,” Motomiya said and Iori couldn’t find a word for the look on his face.

Before he could pinpoint just what that look was, light exploded across the area. 

Iori closed his eyes against it, blocking out the strange pale grey light. It slowly began to fade, until Iori felt safe opening his eyes. Squinting, he managed to make out the direction the light was coming from: the old ruin Motomiya was interested in. The whole building was lit up in that soft grey color, glowing from within. The light contracted suddenly, pulled in to create a symbol. Iori stared at it.

He knew that symbol. He’d seen it before. Where had he…?

That was Jou’s Crest.

The light of the Crest slowly contracted into a single point, then shot out towards them. Almost entirely on instinct, Iori reached up to the light barreling towards him. With some surprise, he felt something actually solid landed in his palms. The last of the light faded away, leaving him blinking down at the object in his hands. _A Digimental_.

Iori stared down at it in a wordless surprise. Another digimental, when they’d long since given up finding more. The Digimental that had gone straight to him. 

_The Crest of Sincerity._

Iori looked up when he heard a great flap of wings, found XV-mon had picked up Motomiya and wheeled away from him during the mess. Motomiya stared back at him, his own surprise mirrored on Motomiya’s face. Motomiya pointed at him, still looking stunned, “That’s a second Crest. He has a second Crest. That is cheating!”

“Iori!” Digmon called.

Iori started to attention then nodded rapidly. Without hesitation, Digmon flew to set him down on one of the cliffs that was just above the water line. Iori dedigivolved Digmon, then held out the Digimental. He didn’t know if the new armor evolution would be able to help Hawkmon, but if there was a chance to save him, Iori had to try. 

“Digimental up!”

When the light of evolution cleared, Submarimon grinned up at him then disappeared beneath the water. There was nothing, for several long seconds.

Then Submarimon breached the surface again. Hawkmon, soaked, unconscious, was safely under the glass dome of Submarimon’s head. Iori let out a breath of relief, then collapsed onto his ass.

Submarimon swam over, grin huge, and offered Hawkmon up. Gently as he could, Iori lifted Hawkmon up; the ‘mon didn’t stir.

The sound of hooves landing had him looking up. He watched as Miyako threw herself from Nefertimon’s back, stumbling his way on shaky legs, and collapsed to her knees next to him. Behind her, Hikari watched with huge, concerned eyes. Pegasmon flew in last. 

Miyako took Hawkmon from him, clutching him to her chest. Hawkmon gave a quiet little mumble and pressed into her more, a sudden show of life that was massively reassuring.

Miyako made a trembling sound, bordering on a sob. Briefly, she hunched over, hiding Hawkmon in the curve of her body. Then she looked up at him. Her hair was plastered to her face, which was half drenched in tears as well as flood water. There was an ugly, deep gash across her forehead, spilling blood everywhere. Before Iori could react, she wrapped a hand around his neck and drew him forward to place a quick kiss to his head. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, _you beautiful boy_.”

Iori smiled a little, watched as she pulled back to tend to Hawkmon. He looked over at the others, watched the shaky relief cross both their faces. Hikari turned away, burying her face in Nefertimon’s neck, shoulders slumping. Takeru slowly climbed down from Pegasmon and approached. 

Iori looked down at Submarimon then and reached down to pat his head. Submarimon was still grinning, bright and huge, impossible not to return. He laughed, a little, a helpless, relieved sound.

Iori glanced around again, found Motomiya and XV-mon nowhere to be seen. Probably flown off to consider recent developments safely.

“Hey,” Takeru called, kneeling down next to them. “You all okay?”

Miyako nodded with a sniffle, head still bowed over Hawkmon.

“Iori-kun?” Takeru asked, looking over at him.

“Sleeping sounds wonderful,” he said honestly, exhausted to his marrow and light as a feather. He shared a small, pleased smile with Takeru, watched how it brightened his eyes.

Takeru leaned forward, gently clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Lucky you two. You’re gonna get the rest of the mission off,” he said, all joking.

Iori made a noise of pure relief, wanted nothing more than to lay back on the rock and sleep there. Instead he looked over at Miyako and gently nudged her with his foot. She looked up, eyes dark, wet, still with lingering distress. “We should go. Dry you both off, get your head cleaned,” he said, gentle as he could manage. He stood slowly and reached out for her. “Home, yeah?”

It took a second, then Miyako let him help her up. She didn’t let him go far, keeping her hand tight around his, and he didn’t try to protest it.

“Guys,” Takeru asked. He was looking around, expression slowly turning from relief to panic. “Where’s Hikari?”

*****

Nefertimon circled over the ruined building Daisuke had been investigating. Hikari scanned the area, having seen him retreat there after Submarimon had rescued Hawkmon. It took a second, then she spied him hiding in the building’s shadow, gazing down at where her team was recovering. There was nothing aggressive in his stance; he didn’t seem interested in restarting the fight while everyone was vulnerable. He just watched, unmoving, such that Hikari wished she could see his expression.

Daisuke turned away eventually and walked into the building, XV-mon following after.

Hikari hesitated a second, then leaned forward over Nefertimon’s neck and motioned for her to follow. “You sure this is wise?” Nefertimon asked even as she descended.

“No,” she muttered, but she didn’t order Nefertimon to change course. She couldn’t explain why she wanted to follow him, only that she needed to.

Nefertimon landed just outside the building. Hikari slid off, touching down as quietly as she could, then slowly walked inside. The inside was large, but empty, the only decoration at all pillars that stretched in neat little rows throughout the room. Despite her attempts at being quiet, every sound echoed. She winced but continued on.

The pillars obstructed her view of most of the room; no angle she could find allowed her to see around them easily. Hikari slowed even further, trying peer around each pillar as she approached it. The last thing she wanted was to move around one only to walk into Daisuke’s sword.

The lines of pillars suddenly ended. Hikari stopped, nerves spiking higher at the drop in cover. The rest of the building stretched out even emptier before her; like Takeru had said, this section held a lot of damage, but she couldn’t see any signs of a cause. A wide crack started along the ceiling, went down one wall, and, by the time it hit the ground, formed a large crevice in the floor. Nearest the wall, the rift was small enough to jump over, though it eventually widened, creating a chasm splitting the building apart. 

Daisuke was already on the other side, staring up at a wall where a large mural had been painted. Hikari couldn’t make out the details, but she could see the obvious damage, where the paint was chipping off, the cracks in the mortar. 

“A Digimental, huh?” she heard him say, tone thoughtful.

“Suppose that’s why you never found anything,” she called, watched him pinwheel around. “Sincerity’s not really your strong suit, is it?”

“Princess,” Daisuke said, still looking at her in surprise. She watched his eyes flick past her, searching for the other members of her team. XV-mon growled, watching Nefertimon for any ill action. “What are you doing here?”

Hikari ignored the growling, instead continued to approach until she was just in front of the chasm. She stopped there, glancing down briefly before looking back at Daisuke. “I wanted to look you in the eye,” she said.

“Something wrong with doing that at home?” he asked.

She didn’t answer, though she knew why she’d never approached him in the human world. Daisuke wasn’t a sincere person but there was undeniably something more honest about him here, in the Digital World, than at home. Unless pushed too hard, Daisuke in the human world was contained, measured, distilled through the mask of a good-natured high school student. It was only in the Digital World that some of that pretense disappeared. 

Hikari knew that, even here, Daisuke wore masks that were both figurative and literal, concealed things depending on what impression he wanted to give. But here, at least one layer of the lies was stripped away. Right now, in the Digital World, one-on-one like they never were in a fight, Daisuke was perhaps the most honest she’d ever get him.

“You tried to kill Iori-kun,” she accused.

Something flickered across his face, a rawness she wasn’t expecting. Like she’d dug her fingers into an open wound. Then it vanished, locked away where she couldn’t see. “It was an accident,” he said.

“An accident? You drew a sword on him!”

He looked away, head bowing so she couldn’t see his face at all. After a second, he looked up and shrugged, so nonchalant it couldn’t be anything but a cover. “Oh, he’s fine,” Daisuke said, voice utterly level.

“He almost died!”

“Clearly, he got better,” Daisuke said with another shrug. But he couldn’t maintain that perfect level tone this time; his voice spiked in the middle, turned a little desperate. Like he wanted it to be that simple, that easy to brush off and continue on.

“Stop it,” she ordered, watched Daisuke reel away briefly at her tone. She didn’t care; she was tired of allowing Daisuke to play at not caring, at acting like nothing affected him. She’d gone through so much. They all had. She was so sick of his bullshit. “That’s enough. Don’t keep acting like nothing’s changed. Like we’re all going to keep doing this song and dance. How long are you going to keep doing this? You almost _killed_ someone. For fuck’s sake, Daisuke, he’s _fourteen_.”

“I know.”

“He doesn’t deserve to go through this.”

“I know!”

“So stop this!”

“ _No!_ ” Daisuke shouted, with such vehemence she wheeled back. There was something about his face, his expression, a twisted mess of emotion. Not fury but… something ugly, something that froze her stomach. There was that rawness she’d seen before, on plain display. Again, quieter, but still made of steel, “ _No_.”

“Why?” she demanded, “What could _possibly_ be worth all of this?”

“What? Are you all still trying to _save_ me?” he asked, lips curling ugly around the words.

“No,” she said, and ached with the admittance. Maybe she was still working on accepting it, that there was nothing she could do. “I just… I want to know I went through hell for a reason.”

“A reason?” Daisuke echoed and scoffed. “There’s no reason, Hikari. There never is. You’re just this world’s battle fodder.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is! I’ve seen it,” Daisuke insisted furiously. Something in him changed then. He didn’t soften but- there was something terribly young in his face then, a little boy’s fear and hurt looking back at her. “We fight and we get hurt and when it's all over, and we’re not useful anymore, the Digital World throws us aside. And if we die? Its no big problem. They’ll just choose someone else to fight.”

“That’s not true!” she shouted again, “I’ve been Chosen just as long as you have, if not longer! I know what this world’s like! They’re good people.”

“You don’t know shit! You may have me in years, but I outclass you _completely_ when it comes to experience. Don’t talk like you know this world when you have a year of experience, at best!” Daisuke paused, took a deep breath. “You know, if he had actually died, it wouldn’t have mattered. Not to this world. Everything he did, his sacrifice, they would have forgotten him. They do that.”

“You don’t know that,” she hissed. She thought about the flowers in Iori’s room, the way some of the digimon in Full Metal City said his name like it was blessing. 

Daisuke’s laugh was empty. “They’ve done it before,” he said, something heavy and dark and helpless in his voice. “But it's not like that’s something they’re going to tell you.”

“Akiyama Ryo,” she said in a quiet voice. She wasn’t sure what it was exactly about the words that made her remember that comment from so long ago. She hadn’t quite forgotten it, but she’d set it aside as unimportant in the grander scheme of things. But she remembered it.

(“ _Ask Akiyama Ryo.”_

_“I don’t know who that is.”_

_“Exactly.”)_

“He was their golden boy Chosen,” Daisuke said quietly, “Their perfect little soldier. It destroyed him, all this fighting. Who he had to fight against. He died, fighting. He died protecting this world. And they forgot about him. They don’t even remember his name. And it didn’t take a few years, Princess. It barely took a few months.

“That’s what this world does. It takes kids who too good and noble and stupid to know better and asks, _fight for us_. But when it's over, when we need help, we’re on our own.”

“Everyone did so much to help Iori-kun after _you_ hurt him!”

“Yeah, well he still had a war to fight!”

“You just don’t want to admit you’re wrong,” she snapped, “You can’t keep running away from the truth.”

“The truth?” Daisuke echoed, “The truth is, yeah, I know I fucked up. I got cocky. I _never_ should have drawn that sword. And we’re both going to have to live with that. But the _truth_ is, he’s _fourteen!_ He’s a child! He shouldn’t even be here! And he sure as shit shouldn’t know anything about _sacrifice_!”

“I was younger,” she said, and watched his expression fold.

“So was I. That’s the _problem_ ,” he said, “However old you were, would you ask some other girl that age to go through what you did?”

Hikari looked away from him. Had to. Didn’t want him to see the fear that came with remembering Myotismon, remembering Piemon. Couldn’t answer him when her hands shook, and a part of her still shied away from the shadow of those memories.

“Yeah,” Daisuke said, “Thought so. Don’t act like this is some perfect world to me. It will leave us all to rot.”

His eyes were wet, Hikari noticed with some shock. Swam with tears though none fell. He wasn’t trying to hide it, his expression an open, raw pain. The kind of pain that sunk deep, cut sharp; the kind of pain that could only be called betrayal. 

“Is that why you’re doing this? To get back at them?”

“No. But it makes it easy,” he said.

“Daisuke,” XV-mon said suddenly, a quiet little voice. Daisuke took in a sharp breath that she almost wanted to call a sniffle, turning away from her.

“Yeah, let’s go,” Daisuke said. Before she could react, though she wasn’t sure what she would do anyways, XV-mon scooped Daisuke up and they both disappeared through the crack in the ceiling.

Hikari stared after them.

“Hikari?” Nefertimon asked softly, pressing up into her side.

Hikari pressed a hand to her chest, to the soft ache between her ribs. “Let’s go to the others,” she said after a second.

“Are you okay?”

Hikari sighed out slowly, dropped her hand to Nefertimon’s head. “I don’t know,” she answered quietly.

“Did you get what you wanted?”

“... I don’t know. But I don’t think I want to be here anymore.”

“Okay,” Nefertimon agreed and let her climb back on. They flew up through the same hole as XV-mon, only they turned back towards the flooded valley and her team. 

*****

Considering the team’s last major victory had ended with Iori almost dying, it probably shouldn’t have been a surprise that the next one resulted in a party. And Iori claiming another Crest and Digimental was definitely a major victory.

Though it wasn’t what Takeru would normally call a party. The team was simply too tired and worn out for something like that. It was more a hangout, a reason for all the Chosen to get together and not have to worry about the war, about planning their next step, about whatever the Empire was planning next. It had been so long since they’d been able to get together as friends and not as comrades. 

And of course, there was a lot of food on offer, the Yagami’s made sure of it.

Takeru sat down next to Iori, all but collapsed into the couch. Iori looked good, better than he had at any point since seeing Motomiya for the first time. No longer as stark white, not shaking or in a cold sweat, eyes clean of fear and pain and tears. Well, the party had waited a few hours before starting, letting everyone on the team go home and clean up and take long naps. 

It had done everyone good, Takeru thought-- not just the rest, they’d all sorely needed a victory like this. Permission to relax and enjoy it.

Though Iori still looked uncomfortable, was hunched into himself a little and watching with eyes a bit too wide.

“Are you okay?” he asked, lowering his voice so only Iori could hear.

Iori glanced over at him, eyes still that bit too wide-eyed. “It’s just… it feels a little wrong,” he answered, “I put everyone in danger today.”

“Hey, don’t worry about that,” Takeru assured, “Everything worked out.”

“Still…” Iori said, looking away, guilt coated over him.

Takeru resisted the urge to elbow him companionably in the side, because he didn’t think Iori was the kind of person who would appreciate that kind of contact. Instead he sighed, scrubbed one hand across his neck, couldn’t help dragging his nails across the scar there out of sheer habit. He wasn’t quite sure what to say to Iori to help assure that guilt. He wasn’t like Hikari; the things Takeru was used to offering wouldn’t help Iori.

He looked around for help, thought some of his uncertainty showed on his face as he did. Sora was the one who met his eyes, one eyebrow rising in question. Her confusion didn’t hold for long, because she smiled, bright and amused, and made a strange motion with her hand.

Well, he had no idea what that meant. Takeru made a face back at her in response.

Sora obviously sighed, made a face right back at him, then motioned over to where Jou was sitting and mouthed something. Takeru glanced over at Jou, who sat with Mimi, looser and lighter than he’d seen Jou in a long time. _Crest_ , Sora had mouthed, Takeru realized eventually.

_Right, Crest of Sincerity,_ Takeru thought and looked back at Iori. _This is going to go very well or very bad_.

“You want me to be honest?” he asked Iori.

Iori glanced over at him again, eyes wary but not unwelcome.

“Yeah, you kind of fucked up today. And we got lucky it didn’t end much worse,” Takeru said. He made his tone as gentle as he could to offset the words, but Iori still shrunk into himself. “But it’s not like you’re the only one culpable. We all let you get away with it. And, we all made you feel like you had to, long before that. So it’s not like it's completely on you and you understand what you did wrong. And everything _did_ turn out alright. I’m not willing to rake you over the coals for that, especially considering the circumstances. Just… try to do better, next time. If there’s something wrong, tell us.”

Iori didn’t say anything for a long moment. Then he breathed out and sank into the couch with a release of tension. “I will,” he promised, “Thank you.”

“It’s no problem,” Takeru said, “Besides, I don’t think Upamon really shares your concerns.”

He motioned over to where Upamon was sitting, talking in an animated fashion to Jou and Mimi. He thought Upamon was telling them about being Submarimon in truly exaggerated detail. The two didn’t seem to mind; Mimi in particular seemed to take a great deal of joy from the story. Hikari was sitting with them, listening with half an ear and an amused smile, though it clearly didn’t hold all of her attention.

Iori laughed, a quiet sound of amusement that warmed Takeru through. “Well, that’s true,” Iore agreed, all soft and fond. Takeru smiled and settled in again, content to sit there silently with Iori, and looked over the rest of the room. 

Taichi and Yamato were playing a fighting game on the tv; they were sitting on the ground, leaving the couches to everyone else. Takeru didn’t have to try to decipher which one was winning-- Koushiro, sat on Taichi’s other side, was making motions with his hands like he was trying to take the controller from Taichi. Taichi had one elbow cocked to keep Koushiro at bay, though his attention was split between the screen and Koushiro. “I will hurt you,” Taichi hissed at Koushiro. Yamato snickered.

Plotmon and Tokomon were sitting with them, cheering on their partner’s respective siblings. Takeru didn’t think they wholly understood how the game worked, but they were definitely enthusiastic about it.

Miyako was stretched out on the other couch, still holding Poromon close; Poromon seemed content to rest on her stomach and soak up the attention though. Miyako was soaking up her own attention- her head rested in Sora’s lap and Sora didn’t seem to mind at all as she stroked through Miyako’s hair.

“I’m sorry,” Iori said suddenly, drawing his attention back.

“I told you, don’t worry about it anymore,” Takeru said.

Iori shook his head. “Not about today,” he said. He paused for a second, hesitant, then sighed and continued, “I… I’ve been really angry lately. I don’t think I took it out on all of you, but I’m not sure. So, I’m sorry, if I took any of it out on you. ”

“I don’t think I got it that bad,” Takeru said, “But I accept.”

Iori nodded, shoulders falling in relief. “I appreciate that. I…”

“Something else?” Takeru asked.

“ _Thank you_ ,” Iori said, quiet but fervent. “The truth is, if you hadn’t said anything then, I’d probably still be in denial. I didn’t want to admit it. It was easier being angry than it was being afraid.”

“Glad to help,” Takeru said, “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

Iori nodded, smiling a little. “I’m… better. Accepting it… I think it helped. It’s not like I’m magically alright now that I have this Crest, but… I’m better.” 

“It would be great if it was that easy, huh?” Takeru muttered, watched Iori laugh with more commiseration than humor. “Yeah, I understand. There’s going to be more problems. But, just, come to us when you need help. We’ll figure it out together.”

“Thank you,” Iori said.

“We gotta look out for each other,” Takeru said.

Iori’s eyes flickered away from him, across to the girls. “What about Miyako-san?” he asked, voice lowering significantly. Takeru understood that; just because Miyako’s eyes were closed didn’t mean she was asleep.

“Been trying,” Takeru said, “But I can’t _force_ her to talk to me. But I’m keeping an eye on her.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“If I knew, I’d be doing it,” Takeru said. He sighed, looked over at Miyako again. The wound on her forehead had been cleaned and neatly stitched, and didn’t seem to be bothering her at least. But something was and Takeru could only do so much if Miyako refused to reach back to him. “Just… keep trying until something sticks.”

“If nothing does?” Iori asked, “She’s very stubborn.”

Takeru sighed. “Yeah. Guess we’ll just have to be stubborn too.”

Iori nodded; there was a steal in his eyes, and firm determination that eased even more of Takeru’s unease. That was the Iori he knew.

Hikari walking over to them stopped their conversation. She smiled down at Iori, all soft warmth and affection and respect. “I’m really proud of you,” she said.

“You’ve said that,” Iori said, but he blushed and ducked his head.

“I think I’m going to keep saying it,” Hikari said, “You deserve to hear it.”

Iori blushed brighter, sinking down. “Thank you,” he mumbled.

Hikari looked over at him then. “It’s very crowded in here for me. So I’m gonna,” She pointed over at the balcony doors. “If anyone’s looking for me.”

“Got it,” Takeru said and watched her walk out. Nothing seemed immediately wrong, he thought- but still, she’d faced Motomiya with only Nefertimon for back up and she still refused to say what had happened in detail. Takeru looked over at Plotmon; she was still watching Taichi and Yamato play, not focused on Hikari like she would be if there was something majorly wrong. Still, he worried Motomiya had said something to upset her again.

“Oh,” Iori said, in a quiet enough voice Takeru wondered if he was supposed to hear. 

Takeru looked over at him, found him staring at his hands with a complicated, but clearly unhappy expression. “What’s wrong?”

Iori made a face down at his hands. “Motomiya,” Iori said, then paused. Still, it was enough for dread to build in Takeru’s stomach. “He… just before I got the Digimental. When we talked, he had this… look I couldn’t identify at the time. I think it was respect.”

“Respect?” Takeru echoed in disbelief.

Iori nodded. “Yeah, like… my decision to keep going after everything, to be… honest about how it affected me. He respected that.”

“That’s… okay,” Takeru said, not sure he had words for anything else. 

“Yeah,” Iori agreed, “What do I do with that?”

“I have no idea,” Takeru answered honestly. Iori huffed out a breath in response. “Hey, don’t worry about it. He’s an asshole. It doesn’t matter.”

Iori nodded in understanding.

Takeru glanced past him, at where Hikari was out on the balcony by herself. Despite the reassurance of Plotmon’s behavior, he couldn’t help but worry. It itched at him. He gently clapped Iori’s shoulder, drawing his attention. “You good?” he asked, because despite his worry for Hikari, Iori was his primary concern right then. 

Iori blinked at him in surprise, then nodded again. “Yeah,” he said, and there was a brightness to his eyes that was immensely reassuring. 

Takeru smiled at him and stood. “I’ll leave you be than,” he said.

Iori’s eyes flicked past him to the balcony, all knowing, and he nodded. “Make sure to enjoy the party at some point, okay?” 

“Got it,” Takeru assured before heading to the balcony.

He closed the door behind him, sealing out the rest of the party. Hikari was leaning against the railing, staring out across Odaiba; she had to know he was there from the noise of the door, but she didn’t say anything. Takeru walked over and leaned on the railing as well. He focused on the horizon. “You okay? He say something?”

“Just… brought up old memories,” Hikari said slowly.

Takeru frowned and glanced over at her. She looked more thoughtful than anything, none of the distress Motomiya had always caused on her face. “Memories?” he asked.

“Myotismon, mostly,” she said to his surprise, “When I gave myself up. I was petrified.”

“I thought it was brave,” Takeru said.

Hikari smiled, a slight, humorless thing. She took a second, clearly gathering her thoughts, before saying, “I kept telling myself, I can do this, I’m a grown-up now. A whole _eight years old_.” She stopped, giggled a little like her eyes weren’t going red and wet with the memories. “Do you remember that feeling? Being too young to realize you were too young?”

“Yeah,” Takeru agreed softly.

Hikari looked back out across the city again and her expression went open and vulnerable. “I still think about that day sometimes,” she said, like she was admitting to it.

Takeru hesitated, watched that open play of emotions on her face. Wasn’t sure where she was trying to go with the conversation, but there was something in her posture, her tone, that made him want to be honest. “I have night terrors,” he admitted, watched Hikari’s eyes swing back to him with surprise. “About Devimon. Not all the time, not anymore. But sometimes. It still affects me. I get it.”

“I didn’t know,” she said, in a stunned little voice.

“I didn’t say. I didn’t want to bother you with it.”

Hikari continued to watch him, eyes going dark. After a second, she sighed and glanced down at her hands. “Do you think we were too young?”

“What?”

“It’s nothing. I don’t…” Hikari threw her hands up then returned to leaning against the railing, frustration clear on her face. “I’m thinking myself into circles.”

“What did he say?” Takeru demanded again, more forcibly this time.

She sighed heavily. “He wondered if I’d ask another eight-year-old to go through what I did. And I can’t. The idea of some little kid facing Myotismon makes me want to throw up. Which was his point, I guess. Though I don’t think either of us had a point there, at the end. We were just shouting at each other with whatever gave us leverage.”

“And?”

She shrugged, still looking frustrated. “...Why us? Why did the Digital World choose a bunch of kids not even into puberty? Why did it have to be kids? Why not someone actually trained for a war? Someone old enough to know how to handle it?”

“I don’t know,” he said. He was thinking about it now too; some other kid in his place running from Piemon. Suddenly, when it wasn’t him, the idea was monstrous. Eight was so young suddenly, in a way he’d known but never fully realized, not with any impact. He’d been _so young_ when he started being a Chosen.

“Is fourteen too young?” she asked.

Takeru started in surprise at the question, then spun wide eyes back over to her. 

Gone was the frustration, in its place something sad and almost desperate. “Because… we all keep calling Iori-kun a child. That what happened was terrible because he was so young. But, if that’s true, he shouldn’t have been there at all. And if he’s a child, are we really that much older?

“The truth is, aren’t we all too young to be doing this at all?”

“It’s Motomiya’s fault we’re here at all,” Takeru said.

“But that’s my point!” she said fiercely, “If we’re too young, he’s too young too. And we know he’s been doing this for years. We can say with certainty he was Chosen at at least 13, if not younger. 16 is too young, and fourteen is too young, and 8 is _too damn young._ ”

“That doesn’t excuse his actions.”

“No, of course not,” she agreed immediately, which soothed some of his building tension. “That’s not… It’s not about _him_. It’s about the Digital World. It’s…” she paused, made a strange motion with both hands he didn’t understand. Then she slumped against the railings and bowed her head.

Takeru sighed and copied her posture. He could kind of see what she was talking about, though no doubt Motomiya had used much more convincing words to get her to this point. The Digital World had Chosen him at eight, which, looking back, was young enough he wanted to be sick. He hadn’t realized it at the time, but that young, he’d had no business being there at all. Fighting a _war_. 

He’d gotten lucky, he thought, looking back on it from his current prospective. All he’d come out of it with was emotional trauma. But it wasn’t like any of those old enemies had been kinder than Motomiya; hell, even with recent events, he’d say Motomiya still looked on them with more favor and care than any other opponent had. Nothing had prevented them from hurting him seriously other than his own sheer dumb luck. Any one of them could have been just as badly injured as Iori, only they wouldn’t have had Jou’s medical training to keep them alive back then. 

The injury was horrifying enough when Iori was fourteen, but someone even _younger_ -

He took a deep breath, though it didn’t help, and leaned further over the railing. “Shit,” he muttered to himself. 

It wasn’t even really about himself. But Yamato had been only ten at the time. Imagining him that young, getting hurt that bad, and everything in Takeru wanted to curl up and scream. Not even the injury itself, but imagine what that kind of trauma would have done to him. Or one of the others being hurt instead; Yamato cared so much, though he always tried to hide it. Something like that would have destroyed him that young. 

“Shit,” he said again.

Hikari made an agreeing sound. “I always knew that the Digital World wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t like I ever fooled myself into thinking the bad parts of it weren’t there. It’s just…”

“Yeah,” Takeru agreed, “This goes beyond that.”

“It’s not like it changes anything,” Hikari said, “I’m still gonna, get up tomorrow and go fight the Empire. That’s the right thing to do. The Digital World choosing someone too young doesn’t change the fact that most digimon are innocent, and deserve protection. It’s… I just need to accept it, and be okay with it. That’s all.”

“Think we can?” he asked, still a little high on realization and horror and disbelief.

“Yeah,” she said with a nod. “Eventually.”

He scrubbed both hands over his face and sighed heavily. “I think I want to be eight again,” he muttered, “Things were simpler.”

Hikari laughed, though it was a sound of tired agreement. “Come on. Let’s go back inside. We can leave the heavy thoughts for tomorrow.”

“Okay,” he agreed and let Hikari take his arm and lead him back inside.

*****

Ken tried to focus on his work, the computer tower he’d taken apart and was in the process of putting back together. Usually it was work he found soothing. But right now, it was doing very little to hold his attention. His nerves were too stretched thin for him to take any joy in it.

Daisuke was late. By a lot.

It had long since gone dark outside and Daisuke should have been back hours ago. Especially since it had started raining a bit ago- he could still hear it crashing against the glass roof of the garden from his position in the dining room. He hadn’t heard from Daisuke since he’d left the territory borders this morning on his search. 

He’d gotten scattered reports of a conflict with the Chosen, but nothing concrete. All he knew was Daisuke hadn’t seen need yet to activate his panic button, so he had to assume things were still under control. 

Still, he couldn’t help but worry.

He wasn’t really keeping track of time, distracted by the sound of the rain and wind, only doing work every few minutes when he remembered to. But eventually he heard the door of the living area opening. He took a second for himself, to breathe out relief and irritation, then put his tools down and stood.

Daisuke was still taking off his shoes when Ken got to the door. There was a towel over the top of his head, hiding his face; his clothes were soaked, his shirt plastered to his skin. His shoulders were tense, the line of his back a solid block of muscle that displayed how stressed he was.

V-mon saw him first. V-mon brightened and left Daisuke’s side to race towards him. He was holding a towel around his throat, creating a kind of cape of it. _Adorable,_ Ken thought and caught V-mon when he jumped up at him. Water still caught on V-mon’s hide immediately soaked into his clothes. Ken sighed but didn’t protest.

“Hi,” V-mon said brightly. Ken picked up the corner of the towel and used it to start scrubbing his face dry. V-mon whined but didn’t try to stop him. Instead V-mon leaned into him more and said in a small voice, “Really bad day.”

Ken paused in drying V-mon, glancing up at Daisuke in concern. Daisuke stood, drawing the towel down from his head to swipe it across his neck. It revealed his face, which was drawn and stiff, fury lingering at the edges. Ken frowned, all concern, but returned his attention to V-mon and rubbed gently at his ears next.

“You’re really late. What happened?” he asked Daisuke, keeping his voice level. All of his irritation had vanished at the obvious strain around Daisuke’s shoulders. All that was left was his worry.

Daisuke sighed but didn’t say anything. The tension around him thrummed, made the very air vibrate. Ken found himself tensing in sympathetic reaction just being near him. Daisuke continued to not say anything, which just furthered Ken’s anxious concern. It wasn’t like Daisuke to be so unresponsive. He set V-mon down and walked over to Daisuke.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked and reached out for Daisuke.

Daisuke shied away just a little, enough to warn him off. Daisuke wasn’t looking at him, eyes focused on the far wall. His expression was like stone, a very pissed off stone. 

“Daisuke?” he asked.

Daisuke hesitated then breathed out heavily, turned to face him. With very gentle hands, Daisuke gripped his shoulders and pulled him in close enough to press a kiss to his cheek. All of it was so gentle, so very careful, almost no pressure behind any of it. Like Daisuke was afraid of hurting him. So close, Ken imagined he could almost taste the fury of energy trapped under Daisuke’s skin. 

He felt when Daisuke took another deep, measured breath, the air stirring his hair. “Sorry,” Daisuke said, voice low and contained. “But right now I’m one wrong word from yelling.”

“Can I help?” he asked.

Daisuke pulled back and stepped away completely. “I’m going to go take a hot shower,” he said, ignoring the question. Daisuke stepped around him and walked away.

Ken watched him go, unsure what to say. Then he turned and looked down at V-mon. “What happened?” he demanded.

V-mon dropped his eyes to the ground, shuffling about. “I didn’t… I missed some of it because I was fighting,” V-mon said.

“That’s fine,” Ken assured. He kneeled down so he was towering over V-mon so completely. “Tell me what you can.”

V-mon nodded and slowly told him about Hida’s return, about Daisuke talking with him and with Yagami, how upset he’d gotten both times. It was a patchy description, as he had been distracted by the fight.

Ken listened attentively though, frowning as he considered it. “How upset is he?” he asked.

“He’s been angry for hours. That talk with Hikari really, really upset him,” V-mon said. His expression was open concern. 

Ken sighed and reached forward, pressed his fingers to the bunched skin of V-mon’s yellow mark, and rubbed until it smoothed out. “Don’t worry,” he said, and dragged up a smile through his own concern. “We’ll take care of him.”

V-mon relaxed completely, pushing into his hand. “Yeah,” he agreed.

Ken smiled and patted V-mon’s cheek. “Are you okay?” V-mon nodded. “Alright. Why don’t you go eat while I talk to Daisuke? You’ve done a lot today.”

V-mon hesitated momentarily but eventually moved off, still tugging his towel with him. Ken stood up with a sigh and began walking to the bedroom. He wasn’t sure what he could do for Daisuke; Daisuke being that still and that contained was so unlike him Ken wasn’t sure how to address it.

Still, whatever Daisuke would allow him to do to help, he was willing.

When he entered the bedroom, he could hear the shower still running. Daisuke’s wet clothes had been left in a pile in the hamper and the dresser drawers were still open. Ken busied himself closing them, fixing up the little messes that he never usually bothered with. 

The water shut off, though it took several more minutes before Daisuke emerged. He’d already changed into clean, dry clothes, his hair in disarray but only slightly damp. His eyes were on the ground, so he didn’t notice Ken waiting for him immediately. It gave Ken enough time to take in the look on his face, the deep set rage that turned him barely recognizable.

He thought about what V-mon had said, the words he hadn’t managed to shake from his head. That Daisuke was angry a lot, all the time, but that he hid it from Ken. 

Daisuke looked up and caught his eyes. There was a flare of startlement, then Ken watched as Daisuke tried to hide all that violent fury. As Daisuke didn’t seem currently able to muster a smile to cover it, it left his expression tight and blank. 

“I’d prefer it if you’d talk to me,” Ken said softly, “Vee told me what happened. That you got into some argument with Yagami.”

“He say what it was about?” Daisuke asked.

“Not really,” Ken said.

“It’s nothing.” Daisuke turned away from him, bunching up the wet towel in his hands. Ken watched his hands go white-knuckled and his shoulders hunch up, defensive and alert.

“Really?” Ken asked, his skepticism heavy in his voice. He raised an eyebrow at Daisuke’s back. “Please, talk to me. What’s really bothering you?”

Daisuke didn’t answer for a long moment. Then he expelled a breath like it was punched out of him. He chucked the towel at the hamper with more force than could really be put behind a towel. It was a poor throw; the towel hit the side of the hamper and the whole thing tipped onto its side.

Ken eyed the spilled clothes for a second before looking back at Daisuke. Daisuke’s shoulders heaved rapidly, hands clenching repeatedly at his sides. Ken frowned and stood from his position on the bed, reaching out for him. He wished he could see Daisuke’s face, have some insight into what he was thinking. Daisuke’s back gave no hints at what thoughts were currently pushing him to the edge of violence, even now, so long after the end of battle. 

Before Ken could reach him, Daisuke spoke. “I just… I _really fucking hate_ this world.” It was hissed out between clenched teeth, low and dark and furious. “I hope it fucking burns.”

Ken stilled, heart turning to ice at Daisuke’s tone. It was nothing like he’d ever heard from Daisuke before. Not just angry, so far beyond anger or fury or any word Ken had ever learned. It was the death of worlds, and the destruction of stars, and the end of all things. 

He took a step back, looked at Daisuke in full: the barely-contained violence, the so careful control, the impression of something coiled tight, ready to lash out. Daisuke was cloaked full-bodied in the rage that darkened his tone. It had twisted every familiar line of him out of shape, until Ken felt like he was looking at someone he barely knew.

_It’s like, these days, he’s always angry_ , V-mon’s voice told him, like it didn’t go against every image Ken had ever carried of Daisuke. Ken had never considered Daisuke a very angry person. He’d known Daisuke was capable of it, but not like this. Not like it lived under his skin, existed in every inch of him, such that Ken could taste it on his tongue even feet away. 

“Daisuke…” Ken said, with some hesitation.

Daisuke didn’t seem to hear him. “I’m going to tear it apart.” He said it like it was a promise. “Until it can never touch us again.”

Funny, Ken had always considered himself the vengeful one. 

Daisuke was sun-bright and sweet and easygoing and he had never had any problems leaving the Knight’s fury with the mask and Ken _did not know who was in front of him_. 

_He tries to hide it from you,_ V-mon had said. And Ken had wondered how much he’d missed, and hadn’t, not once, considered he’d missed _this much_. So much that, in that moment, he wasn’t sure he recognized Daisuke.

How long, he wondered, how long had Daisuke been hiding it from him; how long had Ken not seen it? This fury went so deep, he couldn’t imagine missing it for long. Surely he would have noticed something.

Ken had known, distantly, not quite willing to acknowledge it, that Daisuke hadn’t been the sunshine boy he’d first meant at 8 years old. That all the fighting in the Digital World had affected him as much as it had Ken. Certainly all those wars and close calls had left scars, had worn down Daisuke’s original bright optimism. Sharpened the softness of childhood; turned them both into soldiers who didn’t flinch at a fight.

Daisuke hadn’t been _alright_ , well and truly, for a long time. Ken had known that, had pressed bandages and fingers and kisses to the jagged edges that had been torn into him. Had tried to fix what he could and known there were some things only time could make better.

He’d known that things were going to get bad, get ugly, as soon as he’d seen Daisuke with a digivice. He’d just hoped that, together, they’d be able to make things better for each other. Certainly Daisuke had made the worst years of his life better, the pain softer, the recovery easier. He’d thought he’d done the same for Daisuke.

But, no, Daisuke had just hidden the worst of it from him. Ken could see that, looking at the boy in front of him and thinking back. He could see signs of it, that at the time he’d just thought meant Daisuke was having a bad day. Daisuke had buried it all where Ken couldn’t see and certainly couldn’t reach. Tried to handle it on his own so Ken wouldn’t have to worry, wouldn’t have to carry the weight of it. Until it had twisted him up inside. Of course Daisuke had- the idiot had always protected him. Always seemed to think he was supposed to take care of Ken, ensure nothing happened to him.

Ken had known he felt that way; he should have suspected Daisuke would do that. He’d just… he’d assumed Daisuke would come to him if things got too bad. They were partners, after all.

Ken walked over to him, gently placed a hand on his shoulder. He could feel the coiled energy, waiting to strike; he ignored it and gently turned Daisuke to face him. Daisuke let him, looking him full on for the first time since he’d come home.

Daisuke softened, shoulders falling, eyes warming. A slight smile flickered at his lips. Ken reached up and brushed the hair from Daisuke’s eyes, not looking away, not blinking. His throat felt tight for no reason he could name. _There you are_ , he thought, watching love brighten Daisuke’s eyes from within, _my sunshine boy._

_You make him happy_ , V-mon had said. 

Ken watched Daisuke take one of his hands, pull it down to press a kiss to his palm, whisper an apology for being standoffish into his skin. Ken’s heart lurched, all pain, none of the usual warmth the gesture brought forth. Just because he was staring at his Daisuke again didn’t mean the anger was gone. Anger like that didn’t just disappear; it was still buried, lurking, under Daisuke’s skin, twisting him up.

_That’s the problem, isn’t it, Vee_? He thought. _He loves me. He’d do anything for me._

Like hide all his problems instead of let Ken share some of the weight. Like abandon and brutalize people he’d once protected. Like turn himself into something that was more of a symbol than a person. Like fight a war when he’d already been so clearly sick of fighting. 

They’d been so sick of fighting just before they’d turned on the Digital World. Daisuke had been, certainly. Ken had known- it was why he’d tried to hide the Empire from him. So Daisuke didn’t have to fight anymore, no matter what side he might come down on. But Daisuke had found out, had discovered just how sick Ken was. And he’d thrown himself back into fighting. 

He’d kept fighting, because it helped Ken. Because Ken was doomed without a cure. And when they’d first begun, Ken had been too messed up himself to realize what it meant for Daisuke. Certainly, Daisuke had never let him see how deeply he’d been affected. 

Daisuke kept pushing. Even long after he should have stopped; long after he’d deserved to be able to rest and let himself heal. Even if it took months, or years, for him to be alright again. He should have had that time.

But Ken had pushed his own war forward and, whatever his original intentions to keep Daisuke out of it, he’d gotten pulled in. And Daisuke hadn’t protested; had pushed and pushed and pushed himself, trying to find a cure, trying to fight the whole Digital World. Even with the Chosen, Daisuke had never taken a moment to breathe.

He’d known Daisuke had appreciated his friendship with the older Yagami, even after discovering he was a Chosen too. But Daisuke had never seemed to mourn the loss of it, had kept going like it didn’t affect him at all. And Hida…

Fuck, he’d seen Daisuke hadn’t been alright after that. Hadn’t been anywhere close, and still wasn’t. Hadn’t even found his equilibrium before he’d gone out to fight again. He’d done that for Ken.

“Ken?” Daisuke asked, soft and concerned.

Ken stepped forward wordlessly, tucked himself around Daisuke until he had a face full of red hair. Daisuke made a confused sound but didn’t hesitate before hugging him back. “Thinking,” he said into Daisuke’s hair.

“You do that too much,” Daisuke said, aiming at gently chiding though there was concern still in his voice. So very different from the wrath that had promised to tear a world apart. 

And to think, once they’d promised to protect the Digital World, no matter what, from anything. They’d laid on the ground and watched the clouds transform themselves according the the Digital World’s logic. Daisuke had been scarless, fearless, so young and in love with the universe. That felt like so long ago.

Ken would have given anything to keep him that way. Instead he’d started a war and pulled Daisuke into it.

Ken’s breath caught and the world swam around him. He pulled away from Daisuke, suddenly feeling crowded. His chest hurt, sharp pain squeezing out all his air. 

“Ken? What’s wrong?” Daisuke demanded as he stumbled away.

“I need air,” he managed.

“I’ll-”

“No,” Ken denied, making a sharp motion to keep Daisuke in place as he walked to the door. He couldn’t be near Daisuke right now. He made it into the hall, where he had to brace a hand to the wall to stay upright. The pain in his chest kept growing. He fumbled the top two buttons of his collar open, hoping it would help him breathe around the tightness of his chest. It didn’t.

He’d tried to protect Daisuke. It was all he wanted. To keep that brilliant sunshine boy safe; keep the Digital World from calling him into another war, where he could be hurt, where he could die. He’d been willing to destroy a world if it meant it would never touch Daisuke again. Instead, instead-

(“ _I fucking hate this world._ ”)

_Yagami was right_ , Ken thought, half hysterical, feeling like his world was shattering slowly. _I’ve destroyed him._

Ken collapsed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annnnd that is Act 2 finished. We are half way through this monster! (Don' tell the rest of the story but Act 3 is kind of my favorite) Just don't talk to me about this chapter's length. Its making me die inside.
> 
> IMPORTANT: We are halfway through the story now, and its time to make sure everything's getting cleared up for the future. While you are all wonderful reviews, could you definitely make sure to tell me what questions you still have or anything you're confused about? Some of its supposed to still be unclear, but some of it isn't and I want to know we're mostly on the same page before I start planning Act 3. That way I know what to clear up and plainly state in the upcoming chapters.


	18. In the Days to Come

Daisuke carried Ken out of the infirmary, taking care not to clutch him too tightly in his worry. Ken’s head rested against his shoulder, allowing Daisuke to glance at his face with every other step; his expression was lax and his color hadn’t returned yet, leaving him unhealthily pale. He hadn’t responded at all to being picked up and moved, hadn’t even made a sound, remained limp and insensate. It made something cold and sick eat up Daisuke’s stomach. He tried not to panic as he carried Ken, had been fighting off panic since he’d found Ken collapsed in the hallway. He couldn’t panic yet; Ken still need him.

There wasn’t much he could do though. A trip to the infirmary had revealed nothing wrong with Ken beyond the weed in his neck. There was nothing Daisuke could fix, not now. All he could do was watch over Ken while he recovered; exactly the kind of inaction Daisuke hated.

Daisuke tried to shove down that feeling of uselessness, instead focused on putting one foot in front of the other. Strain grew in his arms from carrying Ken across half the base and back. Ken might have been lighter than Daisuke thought was healthy but he was still significantly taller than Daisuke, so carrying him wasn’t that easy. Still, he could do it, had done it many times; it wasn’t that much of a sacrifice. Even if he did prefer it when he carried Ken to bed because Ken had fallen asleep working, rather than the times when Ken was too sick to move.

As unlikely as it was, Daisuke really wanted Ken to wake up and complain about being carried around, like Daisuke didn’t already know he hated it. But, no, even if Ken woke up, he’d be too out of it to complain about anything. He always was after such an attack.

Daisuke nudged open the door to the living area, careful not to unsettle Ken. He was immediately met by the huge, watery eyes of both their partners. Daisuke paused, not really that surprised, and forced any melancholy off his face. “He’s fine,” he assured the ‘mons, keeping his voice gentle. “We just need to let him rest.”

Wormmon’s whole face wobbled. Daisuke tried to smile at him, but it felt shaky, ready to break. He took a deep breath and stepped past them to head for the bedroom. He had to take care of Ken; he couldn’t comfort Wormmon like he wanted to while he was still holding Ken. He could hear the digimon following him, which was good. He could take care of everyone if everyone was together.

He set Ken down on the bed and began to gently tug the blankets out from under him. He’d already stripped off Ken’s vest and coat in the infirmary, so Ken could rest comfortably. He’d left them in the infirmary; he’d have to send someone to fetch them later. Ken made a quiet sound as Daisuke tucked the blankets around him. Daisuke paused, watching him, a bit of the ice in his chest melting.

Wormmon sniffled as he climbed up to lay next to Ken. V-mon was right behind him, long ears folded against his skull. Daisuke bit back a sigh, instead reaching over to rub gently at Wormmon’s forehead, like Ken did. “It’s alright,” he assured. His stomach clenched; he really couldn’t do Wormmon crying.

Wormmon nodded, still downtrodden.

Ken made another tiny sound. Daisuke glanced down at him automatically, then stilled as Ken’s face scrunched up and his eyes slowly opened. Daisuke’s breath caught. “Ken?” he asked.

The digimon responded immediately, perking up and pressing closer to Ken.

Ken’s eyes didn’t open further than half-mast; he certainly seemed to struggle for even that much. He looked disoriented; Daisuke watched him glance around without focusing on anything. One hand rose and settled on Wormmon’s head, just a little off-center. “Hm,” Ken mumbled, blinking slowly.

“Hey,” Daisuke greeted softly. He reached forward and gently brushed any stray hairs from Ken’s forehead. Ken’s eyes flickered to him, still dazed. “It’s alright,” he assured around his clenching heart. “I’ve got you.”

Ken blinked slowly. His mouth moved for a second, without sound, before he finally muttered, “Tired,” in a slurred, raspy voice.

“Then rest,” Daisuke said, “I’ll take care of everything.”

Ken sighed, sinking further into the bed. Still, his eyes remained locked on Daisuke, fluttering with the effort of staying open. There was something… sad, almost mournful, in them, leaking through the exhaustion. “I’m sorry,” Ken said.

Daisuke tried to smile for him. “It’s no problem. I can handle it.”

Ken’s hand rose from Wormmon’s head to brush featherlight against his cheek. Daisuke caught it and held it there. “Sorry,” Ken said again, “I’m sorry.”

Daisuke frowned when Ken’s voice cracked. “Don’t worry about it. Once you’re better, you can make it up to me, okay?”

Ken’s brow furrowed, whole expression collapsing until he looked distraught. Daisuke remembered Ken looking at him in the bedroom before his collapse, the watery sheen to his eyes, the trembling smile. “What’s wrong?” he asked, holding Ken’s hand tighter in his. 

Ken sighed in response, finally losing the battle to keep his eyes open. Daisuke bit down on the urge to shake Ken awake again and find out what was bothering him- Ken needed the rest, always did after an attack. He sighed and put Ken’s hand down. Immediately, Ken rolled onto his side and curled around Wormmon.

Daisuke scrubbed a hand over his face, exhausted and heart sore. The feeling was overwhelming; a feeling he had more and more lately, more than he wanted to admit. He stayed there, watching Ken, for several minutes. However Ken was settled in well, showed no signs of moving as he breathed slow and even. Ken would be out for hours, at the least. Wormmon, resting in the circle of Ken’s body, looked… better. Not good, not like usual, but he wasn’t crying. Instead he just watched Ken with worried but patient eyes. Considering the circumstances, it was the most that could be asked of him. There wasn’t much good Daisuke could do in comforting him. There wasn’t much Daisuke could do here at all.

He could be useful elsewhere.

Daisuke pushed himself slowly to his feet. He glanced back at Ken one last time, just to check on him. He met V-mon’s eyes instead; V-mon watched him with wide, sad eyes, almost disappointed. He paused. “What’s wrong?”

“Can’t we just… rest?” V-mon asked, “We’ve done so much already.”

Daisuke bit back a long sigh, or worse, a sound of agreement. Laying down with them sounded like the best idea in the world. The battle with the Chosen had taken so long, even if he’d spent part of it isolated with Hida. If he closed his eyes, he could still taste the dam water against his mouth, even after the shower. And to say nothing of the anger he’d run on for hours. He was running on fumes at this point.

“I promised I’d handle things while he got better.”

V-mon’s big, sad eyes got bigger and sadder. “But-”

“Stay and rest,” Daisuke said, “You’ve done a lot today.”

“So have you,” V-mon said, “You can rest too.”

Daisuke gently patted him on the head. V-mon didn’t lose the look at all. Daisuke’s chest tightened the longer he was faced with it. “It’s alright. I’ve got it.”

V-mon didn’t look happy but he stopped protesting, as if he’d given up convincing Daisuke. Daisuke watched him climb over Ken’s knees until he could rest half on top of Wormmon, who didn’t protest in the slightest.

Daisuke walked out of the bedroom, closing the door quietly behind him. He made his way to the private study, where he stood looking between his and Ken’s workspaces. On the wall, the clock ticked past midnight. Ken’s desk was carefully organized clutter of all his different projects, from barely started ideas to practically completed inventions. In the middle of it all was the war data, sketched out plans and tactics, Ken’s thoughts on what was important. Daisuke already knew most of it, had gone over the data at length and discussed it with Ken.

His own desk was messy, though there was less on it than Ken’s. All the notes he’d made over the years of his search. It was an ever expanding list of all the places he hadn’t found a cure, of where he’d failed, of his rapidly decreasing options.

Daisuke wavered.

Ken’s medical reports were an unforgettable countdown in the back of his head, reminding him just how little time Ken had left. And it was obvious, Ken’s decline- he was so sick all the time. He had to find a cure, a solution. Hell, he’d take a miracle by now. And he had to find it soon.

He glanced at Ken’s desk, remembered the war map, all the ground the Chosen had taken. The ground he and Ken had practically surrendered following Hida’s injury. While he didn’t regret it, it couldn’t be allowed to continue. The Chosen had to be stopped. They had to take back that ground, counteract the effect of the loss at Full Metal City. Daisuke couldn’t wait for Ken to recover before acting. Yes, Ken might be back to full strength in a few hours when he woke up. But he might also be weak for days, right up into another attack that laid him out.

Daisuke would have to handle it himself. He’d promised, and there wasn’t enough wiggle room anymore to waste time. He would have to look over all of Ken’s tentative plans, decide which was the best option, and develop it into a solid course of action; determine where his presence was required, issue the orders to the slaves, and carry out the attacks himself as needed; organize the areas conquered, determine what resources could be acquired, and if and where those resources could be put to use for the Empire.

It wouldn’t be easy; it would be incredibly time-consuming. With luck, Ken would recover quickly, or at least at a rate that would allow him to help from the comfort of their bedroom. But, even if Ken recovered quickly, at the current rate it wouldn’t be long before he was sick again. Things would keep getting worse unless Daisuke could find a cure; he _could not_ abandon that search.

Daisuke bypassed Ken’s desk for his own. He pressed his hands to the edge of the desk and stared down at the details of his search. There was nothing, not in any of it, all dead ends. Time was running out and Daisuke couldn't waste time chasing the Chosen out of his territory. Not when everything in him screamed to find a solution, to lose himself in the search.

The two needs balanced against each other, just as important and just as insurmountable as task. Even one was next to impossible on his own. He’d promised he’d handle everything though. He’d promised he’d handle everything and there was _no time_.

T was why they’d split up the work between them before. Ken strategized, told him where to go, what targets to hit; Daisuke did the fighting, the intimidation. It kept Ken safe, made it so he couldn’t have a seizure in the middle of a battle. Left Daisuke with time to work on his search. They’d had that division for so many reasons; sure, sometimes they offered input, but they trusted each other to manage their own tasks. Now, Daisuke had to handle everything. There was no way something wasn’t going to get sacrificed in the press of responsibilities.

Daisuke stared down at the mess of search patterns he’d left. At all the things that had gotten him absolutely nowhere. No closer to saving Ken. No matter what he did or where he went, he couldn’t seem to find any ground on the search. 

(Oh, but the Chosen had stumbled into the search with no idea what they were doing and Hida had walked out of it with a Digimental. Daisuke was too tired to be bitter about it, but something in him felt cracked.)

_I can save him. I’m supposed to save him._ _But how_ , Daisuke thought, furious, frustrated, afraid. Desperate. Three years of no leads and now no time to find them.

The thought circled again and again, built up pressure in his chest until he felt like he was going to explode. He had to take care of Ken. But it was pulling him in so many directions, he couldn’t figure out where to start.

Daisuke screamed, wordless, just to release the tension. He lashed out, slashing one hand across the desk. His notes scattered; his moniter hit the ground with a satisfyingly heavy crash. He stood in the aftermath, breathing heavily, emotion draining away.

He was so goddamn exhausted.

He dropped his head to his chest, shoulders drooping, and the next breath he took shuddered. He drew one hand across his face. Wished he still had energy left with the anger gone. Wished he felt anything other than ready to lay down and never get up again.

Daisuke collected his notes and started again.

*****

Miyako finished the last flick of her eyeliner, than capped it and put it away. She checked her reflection in the bathroom mirror, made sure she was as photo perfect as she could manage. That the curls she’d put in her hair fell across the still-healing cut on her forehead. That there was absolutely nothing out of place, or alarming, or capable of giving away she was in a battle zone daily.

Nothing. With a hum of accomplishment, Miyako packed away her makeup and walked out of the bathroom. It was a routine, these days, taking the time to hide her wounds behind a mask of red lipstick and concealer. A necessary one, not just to keep others from realizing how much trouble she was in, but because doing so gave her a kind of control. _She_ decided how much everyone saw of her, what parts they saw, when they saw them. She could make herself flawless if she wanted and most people would never see otherwise.

It was a control she needed. Everything felt so far out of her hands, she needed it. This stupid, flimsy little cover made of eyeliner and blush, it made things a little easier. It kept things together, even if it felt like she was just pressing tape over gorges.

Sometimes, on the days where that illusion was at its best, she could even manage to fool herself into believing she was fine. 

When she entered her bedroom, Poromon was still pretending to be a stuffed animal on her bed. He sat up when he saw it was just her, poofing as he stretched out. Once everyone left for work and school, Poromon would have free reign of the apartment; until then, he had to hide. He flew up next to her. “You’re running early today,” he informed cheerfully.

“Wonderful. Thanks,” she said. She patted him gently on the head and sat down at her desk. Instead of the school work, her desk was covered in the notes from her investigation into Motomiya’s search; there was nothing incriminating in the pile, she’d made sure of it, though she really, really doubted anyone was going to snoop through it. She ignored the mess for now, as looking into it was an activity hours long.

Instead, after making sure all of her schoolwork was packed away in her bag, she began filing her nails. Another ritual she’d picked up, that the whole team had; the wish to keep their nails as short as possible. Less chance of them ripping off. She really hated it when that happened.

Once she was finished, she picked up her school bag and stood. Poromon chirped as she moved for the door, wiggling back into place on her bed. “Have a good day,” he called.

Miyako grinned back at him. “Thanks,” she said again, wiggled her fingers at him in a wave, and closed the door behind her.

The kitchen was bustling. Both of her parents were moving about it quickly, trying to cook and eat and prepare for the day. Miyako slipped between them with practiced ease, gathered a quick breakfast herself, and sat down at the counter. There was a few precious seconds of being ignored, then her mother turned and saw her. “Ah, Miyako-chan, there you are!”

All the muscles along her shoulders stiffened automatically and she slipped on a smile that was practice perfect. Without meaning to, Miyako found herself standing on the edge of fight or flight. She tried to loosen her shoulders, even as she returned the greeting. She had nothing against her mother. It’s just- her family was so nosy.

They didn’t mean to be. She didn’t think so, anyways. Miyako had always been willing to talk to them before. It was only recently, after Iori’s injury, that she’d completely clammed up around them. She’d gotten more reticent after becoming Chosen, of course, and needed to be a little more secretive about her days. But it hadn’t been such a stark shut off as it had been before Iori was hurt. No doubt she was worrying them now, after so many years of completely open. So her parents had gotten more obvious, and annoying, in asking about how she was doing.

And she did want to tell them, to talk to her family about what she was doing and what she was going through. She wanted to be able to confide in them, to have their advice and their comfort, as she had all her life. But she couldn’t. Telling them the truth was the worst idea.

Miyako bowed her head over her food so her parents couldn’t see her face; as hard as she tried, hiding her emotions was more difficult than hiding her bruises. She didn’t have nearly the practice. She forced herself to chew through her breakfast, despite that her thoughts had banished any appetite. She was going to the Digital World later- she would need the energy.

“Any plans for today?” her father asked, “You certainly look nice.”

“I’m going to Iori-kun’s after school.”

Her parents’ face fell. Miyako yanked down on the urge to fidget, to smooth her hair down over the cut on her forehead. She was sure it was practically invisible now and there was nothing she could do to make them forget they’d seen it when it was still fresh.

“Feels like you’re always out with friends these days,” her mother said.

Miyako hummed noncommittally and focused solely on her breakfast. She choked hurriedly through what was left so she didn’t have to see the worried, overprotective looks on their faces. She needed to get moving before they started asking the really intense questions, the ones she couldn’t answer without giving away the truth about the Digital World. Better not to even have the temptation to tell them. 

She didn’t have Iori’s family. She wasn’t that lucky. Her family was nosy, they clung, overdid their attempts to help to the point of being overbearing, overprotective. She couldn’t tell them _I’m fighting a war_. They’d never understand. They weren’t the Hidas, who could let Iori go, who trusted Iori to handle himself and come home safe.

Miyako didn’t see her family managing the same. They’d lock her in the room before they let her back into the Digital World. Which wasn’t something she was going to put up with. She wasn’t going to just quit. She’d been through too damn much to quit now.

So she couldn’t tell them the truth. Even if she wanted to try to explain what she was going through, what she was feeling to them- and she wasn’t sure she wanted to- the consequence weren’t something she was willing to accept.

So she didn’t tell them. She gave vague answers about where she would be and what she would be doing. She sometimes flatout lied- about injuries she got, how she got them, why she sometimes came home covered in dirt or sand or soaking wet- with an ease that was brand new and a little nauseating. She smiled and she kept to herself and she pretended everything was alright.

_I think I’m going to die_.

Miyako pushed her newly empty plate away and stood. “I have to get going,” she said.

“Oh,” her mother said. Miyako bit down sharply on a wince at the disheartened expression she gained. Her mother rallied quickly however. “We’ll see you later?”

“Yep,” she promised. She picked up her bag again, pecked both her parents on the cheek, and left. Her insides buzzed, agitated, packed full. She tried to swallow it down as she jogged down the stairs of the apartment and headed for the entrance, but it didn’t do much good.

Takeru was waiting just outside the apartment building, leaning back against the wall, his head bent over a textbook with an intense expression. Miyako paused, took a deep breath, and hoped the buzzing, anxious feeling wasn’t as obvious on her face as she felt it was. “Hey,” she greeted, moving to lean against the wall next to him.

Takeru responded with a distracted hum, still buried in his textbook. Miyako left him be, since she thought he had an important test soon. She knew they all rarely had the time for schoolwork they actually needed.

Only a moment later, she spotted Iori coming down the stairs. She nudged Takeru with her foot until he roused from his reading and they both turned to greet Iori as he exited the building. Miyako felt worry bubble up as she got a good look at Iori, who had deep bruises around his eyes. She stepped forward until she was in front of him, resisted the urge to reach out for him. He wasn’t always comfortable with sudden touches these days, “Are you okay?” she asked.

Iori looked confused for a second before he nodded. “Nightmares,” he said, “But they’ll pass.” Miyako felt her face fall. Iori’s eyes gained a gentle look. “I’m good,” he promised.

Miyako hesitated, hands clenching uselessly at her sides. She wished she was a bit more like the others, like Takeru, who seemed to know to know just what to say to be comforting. She had no idea what to do to help. “Okay,” she mumbled, for lack of anything better to say, and felt her whole body slump like it was an admittance of defeat.

“Are we good to go?” Takeru asked. He was watching them with a calm, still expression; all soft, warm support wrapped around a core that was more sharp knowing than Miyako was wholly comfortable with. Well, Takeru had always been like that.

They started to walk to school. Miyako kept an eye on Iori as they walked, watched for any sign of exhaustion or pain. There hadn’t been any for quite a while, but she still watched, just in case anything happened. She couldn’t help it. Iori had been so small at Gennai’s. She couldn’t forget it. So even though Iori had been nothing but strong these last few days, had been the one to save Hawkmon, she watched him.

He was still recovering in every way but physical and she wasn’t sure what she’d do if she wasn’t there to help him next time he needed it.

Eventually, Iori had to separate to head to his own school. He waved a sluggish goodbye to them, eyes sliding to half-mast. She returned the wave while Takeru called, “We’ll see you later! Try not to fall asleep in class!”

Iori huffed a laugh and turned away while dragging his feet. Miyako watched him walk away for a minute before she continued along, falling easily into step with Takeru. They were almost to the school gates when Takeru asked, “How are you?”

“Huh?” Miyako asked, glancing over at him in surprise. She shouldn’t really be surprised though; Takeru had been asking her that for a while, though never with her family’s insistence. And Takeru really was so much sharper than he tried to appear. “Oh, I’m fine.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she said. She tried to smile for him; a month ago, it would have been much harder but now she took a kind of pride in knowing it came out smooth and unflinching. What was she supposed to say anyways? That on good days she mostly just felt numb? That bad days were one wrong word from her falling apart? That she had no idea where to even begin untangling the mess in her head?

She couldn’t do that to him. She couldn’t do that to any of them. They were all going through shit; everyone’s head was a mess. What right did she have to put more weight on their shoulders? On Iori, who was himself just learning to deal with his trauma; on Hikari, whose recovery still seemed fragile, temporary; on Takeru, who had already supported Hikari and Iori through their breakdowns. It seemed so selfish to ask them to help her with her own issues right now.

Takeru nodded, though he still watched her closely. Miyako ignored it, well used to it because it seemed like she was always be watched like that. Like everyone was trying to figure out how to get her to talk. Which was too bad, because she didn’t want to talk and she was a lot more stubborn than they were.

“See you at Iori-kun’s?” Takeru asked in the school’s courtyard, still with too sharp eyes and a wary tone.

“Of course,” she agreed. She left him be, heading for her own class and cutting off any further chance for the questions she could see he wanted to ask.

She wouldn’t put her problems on her team- she refused. The real problem was, that didn't leave her with anyone to talk to. She couldn’t exactly try to explain everything to a school councillor. So she kept to herself, even though she felt like she was going to burst.

Miyako sat down at her desk, dropping her bag to the ground. Around her, the other students filed in, grouped together to talk before class started. Miyako ignored them and, more importantly, ignored the looks that occasionally slanted her way. Better to ignore the rumors that had been popping up in recent days. They were the exact opposite of what she was in the mindset to deal with.

There had been rumors for awhile now, ones that had been growing in prevalence and severity for months. She supposed it was to be expected. The team hadn’t exactly been inconspicuous lately, if at all. The rumors had been existent from the start, since her and Iori had been Chosen. 

No doubt they’d all been a little suspicious from the beginning. After she’d been Chosen, Miyako had stopped talking to her old friends in favor of the rest of the team. She hadn’t meant to, but working to save the Digital World had always seemed more important than hanging out with those old friends. Such an abrupt change had raised eyebrows, she knew. Had made people talk. 

Then they’d kept talking. Why wouldn’t they? It wasn’t like Takeru hadn’t beat the shit out of an unresisting Motomiya just outside the school gates, in full view of the students. Takeru, who also had never really bothered to hide that someone had tried to slit his throat. And really, had any of them ever bothered to hide that something was happening, something physically brutal and clearly emotionally destroying? 

So no, it wasn’t much of a surprise that half the school thought the Chosen were in a gang of some sort.

She could feel the other students watching her, cautious, unsure, even as they continued to goof off. She ignored them; there was nothing else she could do but ignore it. Wasn’t like she’d be able to convince them they were wrong.

She watched them from the corner of her eye though, with an ache in her chest she couldn’t explain. She half-wanted to find those old friends she hadn’t talked to in months, just to be able to hang out with people that weren’t the Chosen. That had no idea about the Digital World, to have that escape. But she couldn’t. Not with the rumors; she wasn’t sure she’d be able to do it even without the rumors. All the other students just seemed so _young_. Children, really, even though they were the same age as her. How could she possibly connect with them, with these people who would never walk on a battlefield?

She couldn’t talk to her family without losing her ability to act in the Digital World. She refused to talk to her team and add to their problems. She couldn’t see herself managing to even distract herself hanging out with her classmates. After a lifetime of always having siblings and numerous friends she could fall back on when she needed helped, Miyako had never been quite so alone before.

Numbness spread through her chest and reached tendrils out into her limbs. Despite being in the middle of a classroom, surrounded by people, she felt an ocean away from them. Practically in a different dimension from these children, who were loud and laughing and so bright and she…

She felt like she was the only one not in color.

Miyako focused on keeping her expression blank, even against the stares from the others, the worried way the teacher was watching her. Despite that Miyako felt vaguely sick, wanted nothing more than to burrow back into her bed and pretend the world didn’t exist, the day continued. Class started, students calming down as old tests passed out, and the teacher called for order. Miyako bit back a heavy sigh as the last test was handed back, instead drawing a hand over her face.

She didn’t think she could have failed more if she tried.

She hadn’t had much time to study, was the thing. Being Chosen already cut into the amount of time she had for school work but ever since she’d taken on looking into Motomiya’s search, she’d had no time at all. What as her math grade compared to Motomiya actually finding whatever it was he was looking for?

It was nothing- especially if it was something that would lead to her team getting hurt. She’d give anything to prevent that again.

Miyako shuffled the test under the rest of her notes, hiding it from view. She focused on the teacher, rather than the hollow frustration in her stomach, the knowledge that everything was slipping through her fingers. How was she supposed to be of any use like this? She shoved the thought down, buried it beneath lecture notes- this was, after all, the only time she’d have for school. She couldn't waste it feeling sorry for herself.

When school finally ended, she didn’t hesitate to begin packing up her bag and hurrying out. The last time she’d been slow about it, a teacher had stopped her to talk about her plummeting grades. That had been a fun conversation. Especially since she’d had to pretend to be okay, and that she wasn’t surprised it had taken _this long_ for her grades to plummet. She had better things to do than waste time with another conversation like that. She had to go meet up with the rest of her team, head for the Digital World for more fighting. And, once that was done, she’d focus on finished her investigation into Motomiya’s search. She was so close to figuring it out; she could feel it.

She hurried down the stairs to meet the others in the school courtyard. As she slid between the other students, taking over not to bump into any of them, she noticed Motomiya. She always noticed Motomiya these days, like some part of her was constantly on the lookout for the bright shade of his hair; they mostly ignored each other, but Miyako didn’t doubt he was as aware of her as she was of him.

She tracked him even as she continued to the courtyard without a pause. He was moving slow, head bowed; he looked haggard, in a way she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Nothing obvious, more the whole picture coming together to create an image of someone run just a bit ragged.

She passed by him without a word, easily bypassing the slow drag of his steps. He didn’t even glance at her, which spoke miles for his distraction. That couldn’t mean anything good. Miyako made a note of the strange behavior in the back of her mind then continued on. She had no room, or reason, left to worry if Motomiya wasn’t taking care of himself. She hadn’t for a long time. 

She had more important things to be getting to.

*****

Following Ken’s collapse, it took him days to recover. For days, he was exhausted, so drained of energy he couldn’t get out of bed. He tried, sometimes, on the days he thought he was getting stronger. He rarely got further than the couch in the living area, where the others would later find him passed out from the exertion. It was the weakest one of his attacks had ever left him.

It took a little over a week before he was strong enough to move about the full length of the base unaided. It seemed like such a short amount of time, but it had clearly been too long. Daisuke looked a mess.

Ken leaned against the doorway to the main control room of the base, watching Daisuke work. Daisuke hadn’t noticed him yet, was instead focused on the multiple projected screens in front of him. The screens currently displayed information on their territory and the war, as well as surveillance of their bigger outposts. Daisuke was slumped in his seat, staring at the screens with a deep frown. There were bruises forming under his eyes, dark and ugly, gave evidence to Ken’s theory that Daisuke hadn’t been sleeping. There was frustration and strain in every line of him that pained Ken to see.

Daisuke had clearly been running himself ragged while Ken was sick. They’d originally divided work the way they had- Daisuke on the front lines, Ken planning and developing back in the base- for a reason. It was too much work for only one of them to handle. Though apparently that hadn’t stopped Daisuke from trying.

Under better circumstances, Daisuke would be able to handle the workload for a week. But he’d been drawn thin fighting the Chosen before Ken’s collapse and Daisuke was never in a good place emotionally after one of Ken’s attacks. All of it combined meant Daisuke had no doubt pushed himself far past the point of where he should have stopped. Typical, really.

Ken frowned, chest twisting with pain at the thought of Daisuke under all that pressure. All of it just to keep Ken’s Empire running. He’d been right. He was making Daisuke worse. He couldn’t help the tiny, pained sound he made.

Daisuke’s shoulders hitched at the noise and he glanced over. He brightened as soon as he saw Ken, whole body loosening and the stress leaving his face. “Ken,” he said, practically breathed out, like it was a prayer.

Ken forced his expression into a smile, strangling down the uneasy guilt so it wouldn’t show on his face. No need to worry Daisuke anymore than he already had. “Hey,” he said softly, trying to keep his voice even, nothing but affection.

Even as exhausted as he had been, all he’d been able to think about since he’d first woken up was Daisuke. How angry he’d been, how broken, how he was pushing himself too far just to help Ken. How doing so was turning him into someone Ken wasn’t sure he even recognized as Daisuke, as that brilliant sunshine boy. Ken couldn’t forget the revelation that it was his fault, dragging Daisuke into another war.

“How are you feeling?” Daisuke asked as he sat up straighter and set the keyboard aside.

“Better,” he answered as he walked over to him, “Stronger.”

Daisuke’s expression softened further and he reached up to settle a hand on his cheek. “I was really worried,” he said, thumb stroking slowly. “You were so out of it .”

Ken tilted his head into the touch, letting out a sigh. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“Don’t worry about it,” Daisuke said, though lines reappeared at the corner of his eyes. Ken felt his expression fall as he looked at the reappearing strain. Daisuke smiled at him tightly, hand dropping, and turned back to look at the projected screens. His expression closed off, turned to a kind of stone that was more common behind the Knight’s mask then in the safety of their home. Cold settled thick and coiling in his veins as Daisuke said, “I’ve been handling everything, don’t worry. Moved some of our resources, planned out the next attack. Want to hear about it now?”

“Sure,” Ken agreed, though it was half-hearted. He settled on the arm of the chair to listen, though he was barely paying attention. He focused on watching Daisuke, examining him closely as the other boy talked. Daisuke didn’t seem to notice how closely he was being watched, focused on reporting the changes since Ken’s collapse.

Most of the anger that had consumed Daisuke a few days ago was gone, as far as Ken could tell. In its place was a cold focus that was almost as bad. And Ken didn’t really believe the anger was far gone; anger like he’d seen from Daisuke was too deep seated to be gone for long.

From the anger, to the coldness, to even how far Daisuke had pushed himself, it was all worrying. It was all signs of how much Daisuke had changed over the years. Been forced to change in order to fight, and survive, the wars he’d been in. All that anger, all the strain he was putting himself under, it wasn’t healthy; no doubt he would just keep getting worse. With the Chosen getting stronger and Ken was getting sicker, Daisuke would keep fighting, and taking on too much work, and never give himself the time he needed to rest, to get better.

The only thing Ken wanted was for Daisuke to be okay. He had to get Daisuke off the battlefield and his mind off the war. 

“Ken?” Daisuke asked and Ken startled back in awareness, unsure exactly how much he’d missed. Daisuke was looking up at him, expression a mess of concern. He leaned over into Ken, one hand reaching out for him. “Are you sure you’re okay? If you’re still weak, you should rest. I can handle everything.”

Affection and grief welled up in his chest in equal measure. Ken tried to smile but knew it came out shakier than he’d been intending. Lovely Daisuke, so dedicated. Ken was going to be the death of him. “I’ve just had a lot on my mind lately,” he assured. Daisuke hesitated, still watching him, so Ken said, “Continue?”

Daisuke returned his attention to the screens after a second. Ken listened as he returned to explaining the engagements he’d planned. Brilliant, brutal, quick and devastatingly effective- the trademark of his Knight. Even though it had been his suggestion for Daisuke to continue, Ken regretted it. This was exactly the kind of mindset he wanted Daisuke out of.

Impulsively, not thinking about anything beyond getting Daisuke’s attention off the war, he blurted, “Forget about that.”

Daisuke paused and looked up at him with a raised brow. “Forget?” he echoed, in a tone of complete skepticism.

Ken couldn’t blame him. It wasn’t exactly his typical modus operandi. He couldn’t just tell Daisuke what he was thinking; between Daisuke’s pride and his belief that it was his responsibility to take care of Ken, he’d never listen; he’d probably do the opposite in fact. Stubborn fool. Oh well; Ken could think fast.

He reached out and swiftly stole the keyboard from Daisuke’s lap, placing it on the floor with little care. He then slid into Daisuke’s lap himself, shifting so he blocked Daisuke’s view of the screens. “Let’s go on a date,” he said as he wrapped his arms around Daisuke’s neck.

Daisuke leaned back in his seat, still staring up at him with raised eyebrows, only now he looked stunned. Eyes huge, dazed; Daisuke’s hands settled on his hips almost reflexively, but he didn’t seem to understand he was doing it. “What?” he asked, utterly dumbfounded.

“A date,” Ken repeated. His grin turned more real at the look on Daisuke’s face. He settled more into Daisuke’s lap, taking care not to put too much weight on his legs, and leaned in onto he was resting against Daisuke’s chest. “Come on. How long has it been since we went out?”

“A while,” Daisuke admitted, but he still looked befuddled. “But where?”

“Anywhere,” Ken said, “There are places we can go in the heart of our territory, where we’ll be safe.”

“But-” Daisuke’s eyes flickered past him, though Ken was sure the screens weren’t visible. 

Still, he shifted a bit more to be absolutely sure. “It can wait,” he promised. He took one hand from around Daisuke’s neck, used it to tilt his head up for a kiss. He kissed slow, deep, dragging his lips against Daisuke’s, feeling the pleased sound he made.

When he pulled back, Daisuke watched him with half-lidded eyes, breathing heavier. Ken grinned, delighted with himself and the reaction. “You’re in a weird mood,” Daisuke noted, but his voice was warm with appreciation.

Warmth drove out the lingering anxiety and guilt in Ken’s chest, left him full of nothing but affection. “Please,” he said, leaning down to brush his lips across Daisuke’s again. Then, just in case Daisuke wasn’t convinced, and because Daisuke really would do anything for him, he added, “I’m so tired of being stuck in this base.”

Daisuke pulled him down into another kiss, hands sliding up his back. A thrill crawled up Ken’s spine as he melted into it. After a few minutes, Ken pulled back again. He stayed close though, leaning fully into Daisuke’s space, enjoying the fan of Daisuke’s breath, the burn of his eyes, the warmth pressed close all along his front. Daisuke sighed out, long and slow, his eyes soft and warm. “Where do you want to go?” he asked, voice low and quiet, practically breathed against his mouth.

“Does it matter?” Ken asked. He ran one hand up Daisuke’s neck and into his hair, running through the thick strands. Daisuke tilted back into the touch, eyes fluttering. “Somewhere away from all this, yeah?”

“I know just the place,” Daisuke breathed.

“Perfect,” Ken agreed and let Daisuke pull him down again.

*****

Hikari leaned back in her seat, sipping slowly at her tea and watching her team through the fall of her hair. There was a strange air to this meeting, different from any previous meeting. A thrumming energy, drawn tense. Something tentatively hopeful, cautiously optimistic. Even victorious. Over a week later, the appearance of Iori’s second digimental continued to have an effect on them.

Iori looked better; perhaps not quite well-rested yet, but his eyes were bright and clear, full of his usual fire. Warmth spread all the way to her toes at the sight, knowing he was doing okay, recovering well. Takeru was draped over the table, head slumped against his arms, hair in disarray and hat lopsided. She had to hide her grin in her cup; it was nice to see him so relaxed after how stressed he’d been. And Miyako…

Miyako was the opposite of Iori. She sat opposite Hikari, head bowed as she looked over a pile of papers in her lap with blank eyes. The warmth left Hikari, so she was cold and empty and frustrated and useless. Not quite sure how to bridge the distance between them.

She bit back a sigh and forced her attention to the war map on the table in front of her. That feeling of victory wouldn’t last forever, she knew, probably not even that long. The war loomed on ahead of her and she couldn’t see an end to it any time soon. The Empire would march and retreat and play tug of war with the territories. They’d grow, find new ways to fight the Chosen, develop some new horrifying invention to control digimon. But her team would be there to fight them and for the first time it felt like she wasn’t just beating her head against a wall.

Soon, Daisuke would beat them down again. But she wasn’t going to bring that up. She’d let her team have their victory, let them really feel the confidence that Iori having a second digimental brought. They deserved it.

“I…” Iori said suddenly, then just as suddenly hesitated. The shuffle of Miyako’s papers stopped and Takeru lifted his head as they all focused on him. Iori didn’t look up at them, eyes focused on the map. She watched him take a deep breath before continuing, voice low and quiet, like he was a bit ashamed to say it, “I can’t… fight Motomiya. I can’t even face him. I just, panic when I do. … I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” she said as gently as she could.

Iori hesitated a bit more, then nodded. His shoulders were still slumped. “I thought you should know.”

“Thank you.”

Takeru let his head fall back down. “Don’t see how that’s different from what we’re already doing,” he said into the circle of his arms, “We’re just running away from him anyway.”

Iori glanced over at him and a slight smile twitched at his lips. 

“We’ll kick his ass eventually,” Miyako muttered and she wasn’t quite as blank as she had been before. Instead she was all poison and force and eyes that cut through steel. Hikari glanced over at her in concern, because that tone was unlike her.

Takeru shifted so his chin rested on his wrists. His eyes were dark and gazing at nothing. “He’s been acting weird lately, right? Motomiya? At school, I mean.”

Hikari hummed agreement. She hadn’t seen much of Daisuke lately, not at school, not in the Digital World. When she had seen him, he’d seemed distracted, unfocused in a way that wasn’t much like him.

“He’s up to something,” Miyako said.

Iori snorted. “What else is new?”

Miyako’s lips twitched up in a small show of amusement. After a second though it vanished. She sighed heavily, all frustration, and shoved the papers off her lap. Hikari watched them scatter across her floor with a raised eyebrow. “Problem?”

Miyako took a deep breath, held it, then said tightly, “I haven’t found anything. I’ve been looking into this bullshit for weeks and there’s _nothing_.”

“You mean Motomiya’s search?” Takeru asked.

Miyako nodded.

“What’s the problem with it?” Iori asked.

Miyako made frustrated, wavy motions with her hands before throwing them both up. Then she paused, took another deep breath. When she spoke, the frustration was brimming in her voice, but contained. “It’s like… Okay, you’re looking for something, you don’t know where it is. So you set a search criteria of A, B, and C, as the most likely clues to help you find it. But you don’t find it. What do you do?”

“Expand the search criteria,” Iori said, watching her closely. 

Miyako nodded. “You start looking for D, E, and F as well.”

“So that’s what Motomiya’s looking for?” Hikari asked.

“Motomiya’s looking for the whole damn alphabet,” Miyako said, all but hissed, “There is just so much information. He has been at this for so long and the search pattern is so wide at this point, I lose the forest for the trees.”

“Need help?” Hikari asked. Kept her tone careful, because Miyako had been so insistent lately about doing it on her own.

There was a second where Miyako cracked, her exhaustion and frustration showing through so strong she looked to be on the edge of tears. Then Miyako shook her head, expression going flat again. “No. I’m… I am starting to recognize things. Certain signs. Give me another week, I’ll have it. I’m just… getting frustrated.”

“Okay,” Hikari agreed easily, smiling to set her at ease. “You’re doing good work, don’t worry.”

Miyako nodded, lips pressed thin. Then her eyes fell to the floor and she grimaced at the sight of all the scattered papers. “Sorry,” she muttered, leaning down to pick them up. Iori moved to help her.

“You know, I’ve been thinking,” Takeru muttered as the other two worked. “One of the places Motomiya was looking into just _happened_ to have the digimental of Sincerity. That’s… an odd coincidence, right?”

There was a long pause from the whole group. 

Then Hikari shook her head. “No, he didn’t know it was there. He was just as surprised as we were.”

“Yeah, I know that,” Takeru said, waving the words away. “I’m not saying that’s what he was after. But it’s still… it’s weird. Right?”

“It’s not even that they were close by,” Iori said slowly, eyebrows drawing together as he thought it over. “The digimental came from the same building.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Miyako said. Hikari watched her hands form into fists, white-knuckled. “I’m almost there. I promise.”

*****

V-mon dashed through the halls full-tilt, arms full of towels, shouting, “Beach date!” Frankly it was amazing he didn’t trip over the mass he was carrying. Not that he seemed to notice his burden, instead running easily with a huge grin. 

Ken stepped out of his way, a small grin of his own stretching his lips. It was good to see V-mon so excited, so relaxed; lately he’d seemed infinitely tired, weighed down, exhausted with worry. The change was reassuring. Hopefully some of it would rub off on Wormmon for the outing.

From the direction of the door, he heard Daisuke shout, “We’re not going to the beach!”

Ken huffed a laugh and continued to walk to where he’d heard Daisuke’s voice. Daisuke was sitting at the genkan, shaking his head and tying his shoes. Ken could just see the edges of a bright grin on his face. Daisuke looked even more relaxed than V-mon, the line of his shoulders completely at ease. He was all warmth and good humor, no room for the Knight’s rage. Some of the knot in Ken’s chest untangled, relief sweeping through him. This had been a good idea for all its suddenness. 

Daisuke’s head turned slightly at his approach. “Guess we gotta take them with us, huh?” he asked, except there was too much laughter in his voice to be properly exasperated.

“I don’t mind,” he said, “I’m used to it.”

Daisuke nodded. “Yeah,” he agreed, drawing the word out. “Where’s Wormmon?”

“Making sure we’ll have lunch,” Ken said. 

Daisuke nodded again and stood, turning to him. Ken felt his smile drop. Daisuke was still wearing his armor.

“Wow, what’s wrong?” Daisuke asked, walking over to him, concern drawing his eyebrows tight.

Ken took a fortifying breath and forced a half-real smile. “Why?” he asked, trying to keep his tone joking, with none of the despair he felt. He waved a hand at Daisuke’s armor when Daisuke looked confused.

Daisuke glanced down at his arms, covered in his braces, and made a face himself. “Oh,” he muttered. He glanced up at Ken with a guilty little grin. “Habit.”

Ken shook his head and stepped right up close. “Honestly,” he said, exasperated and almost amused. Would be amused, except for how much it said for Daisuke’s mental state. That he thought he had to be battle ready even in the middle of their territory, on something as relaxed and personal as a date.

He gently took one of Daisuke’s hands between his, stepped fully into Daisuke’s space. He bowed his head so they were breathing each other’s air. “Come on,” he said lowly, “You really don’t need this.”

He didn’t look away from Daisuke’s eyes even as he slowly unlatched the braces and peeled them away with an ease born from practice. He could feel the puff of Daisuke’s breath against his lips as he worked, watched Daisuke’s eyes fall to half mast. After the second bracer fell to the ground with a clatter, Daisuke leaned forward and caught him in a fierce kiss.

Ken curled his fingers through Daisuke’s belt loops and sank into the kiss. He opened to the kiss with a moan, stepping closer so their chests were pressed together. It was several minutes before they pulled away; Ken’s lips felt sore and bruised, the best kind of burn. He smiled a little and lifted his hands to begin working at the clasps of Daisuke’s chest piece.

“Sorry,” Daisuke muttered as he worked, still pressed close. 

Ken shook his head, stealing another quick kiss as he got one shoulder undone. “What am I going to do with you?” he muttered. But when he lifted his head to look at Daisuke again, he found himself on the end of an examining look. “What?”

“You really are in a weird mood,” Daisuke said. 

Ken rolled his eyes, making Daisuke laugh. Ken undid the other shoulder and began to remove the chest piece, setting it carefully on the ground. When he straightened, Daisuke settled a hand on his cheek and pulled him into another kiss. Ken sighed into it; warmth spread from Daisuke’s hands on his face, the rough drag of his callouses on Ken’s skin.

It takes V-mon’s voice to break them apart again. “Uh, are we going?”

Daisuke huffed, not pulling very far back at all. “We can leave them here,” he suggested, tone wry.

“No.” Ken glanced over, saw V-mon and Wormmon. They were waiting a few feet away; V-mon had given his burden to Wormmon so he could carry the cooler Wormmon had prepared. “Alright. Let's get going, yeah?”

There was a chorus of agreements from all sides. As a group, they left the living area and walked to one of the hangers. The air was jovial, light-hearted; Ken listened to V-mon and Wormmon chatter without interruption, enjoying the weight of Daisuke’s arm over his shoulders.

They flew out, Stingmon following XV-mon, Ken content with letting Daisuke keep the destination a surprise. Despite that, he did know his territory intimately, could track their progress into its depth from memory. Practically at the center of the Empire and Ken recognized the lake XV-mon began to circle with a surge of warmth.

It had been ages since he’d been back to this lake, this peaceful little swimming hole. But it had been a favorite place once back before the war, for all of them. An escape from their duties to where they could just be children. Perfect for what he wanted, he thought gleefully.

The lake was as he remembered it; serene, all rolling green hills and clear blue water. The only thing that had changed was the tower Ken could just see in the distance.

He stepped down onto the grass once Stingmon landed and took a deep breath. The air of the base was clean, of course, but it never smelled this sweet, this fresh. It was a nice change. Stingmon moved around him as he admired the scenery, laying out the blankets and towels he’d brought. Stingmon twitched away when he reached out to help, shaking his head. “It’s alright, Ken-chan. I’ve got this. You should still be resting.”

Ken huffed at him, puffing out his cheeks. While it was true he still didn’t feel as strong as he usually did just yet, he could handle laying out a few towels.

There was a great splash before he could say so though. Ken turned towards the lake, where he could make out V-mon swimming through the lake. Daisuke stood on the shore, shaking his head in amusement. V-mon suddenly burst through the water, grinning widely. “Come on, Stingmon,” he called.

Stingmon hesitated; Ken could see his indecision in the fluttering of his wings. “Go on,” Ken encouraged.

Stingmon glanced down at him briefly to make sure, then, after setting down the last towel, flew to the water’s edge. He didn’t join V-mon, as his wings weren’t exactly meant for the water, but he settled his feet in the water with an air of contentment.

Ken smiled at the sight and busied himself straightening the last few blankets and towels. The cooler was a bite far off, as V-mon had probably just dropped it off before diving for the lake. Oh well, they wouldn’t be eating for a bite anyway.

He sat down, tilting his head up to enjoy the clean air here. After a second, Daisuke joined him, their arms pressed together. “Like it?” Daisuke asked, leaning over so he could whisper the words into Ken’s ear.

“It’s been awhile since we’ve been here,” Ken said, letting his smile show in his voice. Only for a moment, then he switched to mock scolding. “Though if I’d known we were coming here, I would have insisted on swim trunks.”

“Oh, where’s the fun in that?” Daisuke asked, grinning unrepentantly. Even if Ken had actually been irritated, it would have vanished in the face of that grin. “Come on, it’ll be fun. Like old times. Just finding a new swimming spot and diving in.”

Ken laughed softly, unable and unwilling to restrain his smile at the memory. That had been pretty much how it happened, back when they were little, still exploring the Digital World. They simply hadn’t been able to resist partaking in anything interesting they found, even if it meant swimming in their clothes.

Daisuke smirked at hm, eyes glittering. “Knew you’d like it,” he said, voice warm and soft and so close.

Ken nodded in agreement. He laid down on the blanket, staring up at the bright blue sky. It was so peaceful here.

“Not going swimming?” Daisuke asked.

“In a minute,” Ken said, “I want to enjoy this.”

The reason he’d given Daisuke, that he needed to get out of the base, that had been made up, an excuse just to get him to agree. But now that he was out here, Ken realized just how sick he actually was of the base. Being outside felt like a weight had lifted off his chest. Looking around, he thought it was like that for all of them; everyone seemed lighter today. He didn’t think he’d seen V-mon smile so brightly in ages.

They’d used to go on dates like this all the time before. It was only after the war began and he’d started getting sick that they’d stopped. There had always seemed to be something more important going on. And, since they practically lived together, going on dates had seemed pointless.

 

Well, Ken never did make the same mistake twice. He’d make sure they took breaks more often.

“Well, I’m going swimming,” Daisuke said. Ken turned his head to watch Daisuke stretch out then begin to take off his shoes. His mouth went dry when Daisuke yanked his shirt off after, dropping it carelessly on the ground. That done, Daisuke turned enough to grin down at him. “Sure you won’t join me?”

“I’m comfortable here,” Ken said, though he didn’t take his eyes of Daisuke. 

Daisuke laughed, low and deep, the sun behind him. Shirtless, skin dark from a lifetime in the sun, grin huge. Yes, Ken was more than comfortable where he was. Daisuke’s smile turned mischievous. “Oh, you really won’t come?”

Apprehension creeped down his spine. “I suppose I could be convinced,” he said, but his tone was more cautious than joking.

Daisuke leaned in closer, until he was almost on top of Ken. Ken’s breath caught, all his attention on the quickly disappearing distance between him and Daisuke, Daisuke’s mouth from his. “Don’t worry,” Daisuke said, voice pitched low, “I can be very convincing.”

Daisuke’s hands fell to his ribs before he could react, fingers dancing featherlight. Ken shrieked with laughter, trying to roll away, but Daisuke was experienced enough that he simply moved with him. No matter how Ken squirmed, he couldn’t escape.

“Stop!” he managed to gasp out, breathless, giddy.

Daisuke listened, pulling his hands back but not moving away. Ken laid still, gasping for breath, having squirmed half off the blanket. “I hate you,” he managed.

Daisuke giggled. “So ticklish,” he said. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to Ken’s neck and Ken didn’t have the energy to push him away. He simply huffed a protest. 

Once he had his breath back, he sat up and began to unbutton his shirt. “Okay, I’ll join you.”

Daisuke said, “ _Yes,_ ” under his breath and ran for the lake. Ken huffed and set his shirt aside, got to work on his shoes. When he looked up, Daisuke was watching him from the lake, half-submerged already, eyes intense and dark.

Ken moved to join him, the water was a cold shock against his bare feet. He grinned and dove in after Daisuke.

Ken lost track of time as they swam, chasing each other around the lake. Eventually weariness set into his muscles, the exhaustion that hadn’t gone away completely yet from his collapse returning. Ken left the lake for their pile of towels, body sore from swimming in the best way. Daisuke followed and merely collapsed onto the blanket while Ken began to wring the water from his hair. V-mon flopped eagerly onto his chest.

Ken laughed a little at the image, grinned when Daisuke peeked up at him. As Wormmon began to pull out the lunch they’d packed, he put his shirt back on and leaned over Daisuke. “You seem happy.”

“You were right. This was a great idea,” Daisuke said, smiling.

Ken smiled back, helpless in the face of how happy and relaxed Daisuke looked. “I’m glad,” he said and wished he knew how to keep Daisuke like this all the time.

Daisuke slid one hand around his neck and pulled him down into a kiss. Ken could feel the smile against his lips, couldn’t help but mirror it despite how it ruined the kiss.

“Squishing me,” V-mon complained.

Ken pulled back so he could look down at V-mon’s wide, faux-sad eyes. Daisuke snickered, grinning up at him.

Wormmon climbed into his lap, stealing his attention. “Lunch?” Wormmon asked. There was no denying even Wormmon seemed happier, brighter. It made Ken’s heart break a little.

As soon as Wormmon mentioned food, V-mon seemed to regain all his energy. He jumped off Daisuke’s chest, ignoring the groan he made and leapt for where Wormmon had set out the food. Ken smoothed his hands along Wormmon’s back as Daisuke sat up. “Thank you, Wormmon,” he said.

Daisuke stretched as he stood. “I’ll grab you both something, yeah?” Before Ken could protest, he was already off and muttering to himself, “Where did I put that shirt?”

Daisuke came back loaded with food, V-mon hanging from his neck, and no shirt in hand. Ken wasn’t exactly going to complain. “Here,” Daisuke said, sitting down and handing off a plate of food.

Ken picked at his sandwich, tearing it apart with his fingers while Wormmon gleefully ate whatever bits Ken put before him. Most of Ken’s attention was elsewhere, focused on the soft set of Daisuke’s expression, the relaxed way he played with V-mon, the peaceful expanse of green hills and blue skies. The smile on Daisuke’s face was boyish; all of his stress stripped away left him looking years younger.

Some of the content curled warm in his stomach chilled with his rising guilt. Would Daisuke look like that all the time if Ken hadn’t dragged him into this war?

“I miss this,” Wormmon said, voice quiet. 

Ken hummed agreement, still watching Daisuke; Daisuke pushed V-mon onto his back and pretended to go for his stomach, making V-mon shriek. It was so carefree. Ken couldn’t help but think back to the other times they’d visited this lake, back before the war. Compare that Daisuke to the one beside him.

The difference was enough to break Ken’s heart. Remembering that bright-eyed boy felt like a kind of torture. Daisuk had had such a big heart once, before he’d become so focused on their little family. Now, no one else mattered next to them. Now that he thought about it, younger Daisuke would have hated that. Daisuke really had changed so much over the years. Lost his softness, his generosity, his eagerness to help.

Ken’s heart hurt the more he considered it. The more he remembered how quickly Daisuke had taken to the role of Chosen. He’d sworn to protect the Digital World after barely a month of visiting it. He and V-mon had practically been glowing when they’d promised it.

(And Ken had smiled at them and acted like the promise hadn’t chilled him to the core. Hadn’t made his hands shake. Hadn’t made him feel like he was staring down Daisuke’s death, when he was just learning how to be okay with losing Ryu, losing Osamu.)

He’d promised it too, that he’d protect the Digital World. They’d sworn they’d do it together. They’d both looked at him so encouragingly, so hopeful, and Daisuke had been smiling so widely. He’d never stood a chance against that smile.

But… that wasn’t why he’d promised. As much as he’d liked Daisuke even then, he hadn’t exactly been so completely enraptured by Daisuke that he would have thrown himself carelessly into defending the Digital World just for him. He’d wanted to do it and that want had been separate from the other boy, unrelated. Even if Daisuke hadn’t been Chosen, Ken thought he still would have fought for this world.

But that had changed. Somewhere over the years, the whole of the Digital World had become an enemy.

He’d wanted to help people, once. Where had that changed?

“Ken?”

Daisuke’s voice, suddenly thick with worry, snapped him from his thoughts. Ken looked up, found the others watching him with huge eyes. He knew those expressions. He pressed the back of his hand to his nose, wasn’t surprised when his hand came back bloody. He let out a heavy sigh.

“Shit,” Daisuke hissed. There was clatter as Daisuke swayed towards him without paying attention to anything he shoved out of the way. “Here.” Daisuke pressed a napkin to his nose and all Ken could see was Daisuke’s dark, huge eyes.

“It’s fine,” he muttered, taking the napkin and holding it in place.

“No, it’s not,” Daisuke hissed. All the ease and carefree joy Ken had seen in him earlier was gone. Ken’s heart plummeted. “Vee, start packing. We’re heading back.”

“But,” Ken tried to protest and heard the disappointment in his voice.

Daisuke’s expression softened, though Ken could still see the panic in his eyes. “It’s fine. We can come back later. When you’re feeling stronger.”

A strange chill crept up his spine. He was still weak from the last attack, still falling asleep without wanting or meaning to. It had barely been two weeks. It was too soon for another attack, even one as small as a nose bleed. There’d never been two in such a close time span before.

Dread followed sharply on the heels of the chill, until he felt cold and sick all over. “Okay,” he agreed numbly, letting Daisuke help him to his feet.

_Come back when you’re feeling stronger._

Ken had sudden doubts that day would be any time soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the long break. Tiny baby puppies are exhausting. 
> 
> Also, Also, a big shout out to Asmodile, one of the really nice artists for this fic. Its their birthday!!!!!!


	19. Building Darkness

Sora stared at the door to the Inoue’s apartment, a sick feeling twisting up her gut. She wasn’t quite sure what she was going to say to Miyako, knew nothing beyond the fact that doing so had become a necessity. She’d heard how bad Miyako was doing, from Taichi, from Takeru, but she’d severely underestimated the seriousness of the situation. Miyako was such a bright girl, was so unashamedly loud about her problems, that imagining the withdrawn shadow the others had described was almost impossible. 

Then she’d actually seen Miyako, caught her as she fled the Yagami’s apartment after a team meeting. For all she’d pretended she was fine, Miyako was a terrible liar; much like Mimi, it just wasn’t in her nature. Sora could tell she was faltering, could see the cracks in the careful composure that revealed the deeper problems she was trying to hide. She needed help, clear as day, and if she wasn’t willing to reach out to her team, Sora would offer instead.

Of course, if Miyako wasn’t opening up to her team, Sora wasn’t sure exactly what she could do to convince Miyako to talk to her.

While Sora continued to stand there, staring at the door and trying to decide what she was going to say, there came an annoyed sigh from behind her. Before she could protest, Mimi reached over her shoulder and knocked on the door. Sora turned just enough to glare at her.

Mimi shrugged. “What? You weren’t going to do it.”

Sora sighed herself, shoulders sagging, because there was more truth in Mimi’s words than she wanted to admit. No doubt she would have continued standing there for ages on end, grasping for ideas. 

“I still don’t get why I’m here,” Mimi muttered, shifting about next to her.

“Miyako-chan respects you,” Sora said, “She’ll listen to you.”

“You’re the one who shares a Crest with her,” Mimi said.

Sora pressed her lips into a thin line, the words weighing on her. She shared Miyako’s crest; surely that put some responsibility on her shoulders to take care of her. And she’d heard for weeks how poorly Miyako was doing and she hadn’t done anything. She’d underestimated everyone’s worry. She should have acted way sooner.

Sora wrestled the thoughts back when the door opened and Miyako’s mother looked out at them. She tried out her most charming smile in the face of Mrs Inoue’s questioning eyes. “Hello. We’re here to see Miyako-chan.”

Relief poured over Mrs Inoue’s face so thickly that Sora’s heart hurt in sympathy. “Oh. Oh yes, please, come in,” she invited, stepping inside to let them in. 

Sora did so, slipping off her shoes and following Mrs Inoue deeper into the house, Mimi right on her heels. “I’m glad you’re here,” Mrs Inoue said, “Miyako’s been cooped up in her room for hours. We haven’t been able to get her to talk to us lately. Maybe you can.”

“That’s what we’re here for,” Sora assured, fighting to keep her smile straight in the face of Mrs Inoue’s worry. She shared a look with Mimi, found her own disquiet leveled back at her. The worry was so obvious, so heavy, that it was impossible to miss. Surely Miyako had to realize how much she was hurting her family with her actions. Sora wasn’t sure how she could miss it; at the same time, she couldn’t imagine a Miyako that didn’t try to assuage those worries.

“Thank you. Well, Miyako’s room is right there,” Mrs Inoue said and pointed down the hall at a door. Sora nodded in understanding and walked over to stand in front of it.

“Ready?” Mimi asked softly.

“Yeah,” she agreed and knocked before Mimi could. “Miyako-chan, it’s Sora. We’ve come to talk.”

There was a long pause, then the door opened. Behind her, Mimi sucked in a sharp breath when Miyako peered out at them. Sora understood that quiet intake more than she wanted to admit; up close, the dead set of Miyako’s expression was so much worse than any words could get across. 

“Sora-san? Mimi-san? What are you doing here?” Miyako asked and her eyes in no way matched the curious tone of her voice.

Sora felt her smile shake, but she did her best to hold it steady. There was no need to get Miyako worried or defensive before they even began talking. “Hi, Miyako-chan. We thought we’d stop by and chat. Can we come in?”

Despite her best efforts to keep her tone even and noncommittal, Miyako turned suspicious. She glanced between the two of them, brow furrowing, then looked over their shoulders. Sora bit down on the urge to follow her gaze, though she suspected she knew what was there: Miyako’s mother, watching, that desperate hope on her face.

Miyako sighed and stepped aside to let them in. “I’m kind of in the middle of something,” she said as she closed the door behind them. “I’m not going to be the best entertainment.”

“That’s fine. We just want to talk,” Sora replied.

On the bed, Poromon perked up and started fluttering. “Hi,” he greeted, utterly chirper, such a sharp contrast to Miyako. 

Sora smiled and waved at him, watched as Mimi leaned over and smoothed her hand over Poromon’s head. When she turned back towards Miyako, she saw the other girl had sat down at her desk, back turned to them. Her head was already bent over the papers, attention wholly refocused on the work. Sora sighed, though after what Takeru had been saying, she wasn’t all that surprised. 

“Miyako-chan?” she called, walking over to stand over the girl’s shoulder. 

Miyako made a humming sound in response but otherwise that was it.

Sora peered down at the work on the desk. Not school work; pictures of the Digital World, marked clearly as such by the digimoji scattered across them. Miyako was comparing them, scrawling notes in a notebook already full of them. The writing was tiny and cramped, such that Sora couldn’t quite read what was written. 

Sora turned to look at Mimi, who had sat down on the bed with Poromon. Mimi shrugged, while Poromon just looked sad. Sora winced at the sight of that little face looking so upset, at how the expression looked worn in, well-practiced. 

“Miyako-chan,” she called again, “How are you feeling?”

Miyako didn’t turn around, just shrugged one shoulder. “Alright,” she said, “Got a lot to do.”

“Oh? Like what?”

“School. Digital World. Keeping up with Motomiya is a lot of work.”

“Takeru-kun said you’ve been working too much,” Mimi said from the bed.

The scratch of Miyako’s pen stopped, her head turning just enough to gaze at them over her shoulder. “It’s fine.”

“Oh really?” Mimi asked, tone utterly disbelieving. Sora glared back at her, though she was ignored. Mimi pursed her lips. “You know, a lot of people are worried about you.”

“And as I keep saying, I’m handling everything.” Miyako turned away from them, back to her work. The line of her shoulders was stiff, defensive; her spine straight like she could hide everything behind it. Sora ached with sympathy.

“We just want to help,” Sora said, soft to contrast Mimi’s sharpness.

“I don’t need it,” Miyako said and Sora wished her voice matched the defensive set of her body language instead of the flat tone she was using. She could hear Mimi’s aggravated grumble behind her but she didn’t share the frustration. 

This all reminded her all too much of being a kid, her first time in the Digital World- trying to be strong so the others wouldn’t worry, trying to be strong all the time, even after Taichi disappeared and it felt like all the responsibility had fallen on her. She remembered what it felt like to have that weight hollow her out.

“How are you sleeping?” Sora asked, before Mimi’s grumbling could form into words that would just shut Miyako down.

Miyako didn’t answer and that felt like answer enough.

She heard Mimi stand up before the other girl joined her just behind Miyako. “Miyako-chan,” Mimi said and a lot of the frustration had left her voice in favor of a sweet compassion. “Please, talk to us.”

Miyako sighed and finally spun her chair around. “I told you, I have work to do,” she said, “I really don’t want to talk.”

And if only there wasn’t so much strain in her face, something desperate lurking behind her eyes, Sora would almost be willing to leave it at that. But there was something, and Sora had never been the kind to just walk away when someone needed her.

Mimi was silent for a second, then scoffed. “People like you are the worst,” she muttered. Sora winced a little at the harsh words, though Mimi’s tone didn’t fit them. She watched Miyako’s eyes darken. “What do you expect to get bottling everything up inside? How are people supposed to help if you try to handle it all on your own?”

“Mimi,” Sora hissed. Mimi huffed but, after a quick glance towards Miyako, she softened again, going gentle and apologetic. Sora sighed and looked back at Miyako. The younger girl’s head was bowed, hair shadowing her face. “We just want to help. We’re Chosen too, we understand what you’re going. So, please--”

“Understand?” Miyako echoed and Sora’s words choked in her throat. Miyako stood, looked at them both with eyes gone sharply furious. Sora froze beneath the gaze. Miyako continued, each word parsed with disbelief. “You understand what I’m going through?”

“We have done this before,” Mimi said, “We still remember-”

“Shut up,” Miyako hissed. Her voice wobbled despite the fury. “ _My best friend almost bled to death in my arms._ Like hellyou understand.”

“Miyako-chan.”

“Get out,” she hissed. The hand she flung towards her door shook a little; the pressed thin line of her mouth quivered. 

Sora wanted to protest, wanted to wrap Miyako up until the fragile, shaking thing in her face disappeared. But her eyes, despite being watery, were firm, a desperate edged fury Sora didn’t think she should push. It was the kind set to explode, and Sora wasn’t currently sure where all that contained violence would go. “We’re always here to talk,” she said. She could almost see Miyako bristling in response, so she began backing away for the door.

Mimi made a protesting noise, but didn’t argue before joining her. Poromon sadly waved goodbye, sunk into the bed as he watched. Sora tried to give him an encouraging smile, though she doubted it would be of help.

They left the apartment quickly, after only a quick exchange of pleasantries between them and Mrs Inoue. Outside, Mimi gave a heavy sigh. “That went well,” she said, but her drooping shoulders and bowed head took any sting out of the sarcasm.

“Yeah,” Sora agreed.

“You sure we should have just left like that?” Mimi asked. 

“I don’t know,” she admitted, “But I was worried, if we pushed her…”

“Yeah,” Mimi agreed with another sigh.

“I’ll be back,” Sora said, “She needs someone.”

“That’s our Sora,” Mimi said, sweet and fond. 

Sora smiled in response. “Sorry I made you come all this way.”

“It’s no problem,” Mimi said, “Come on, let’s go. We’re going to need a game plan to handle this. How about over lunch?”

“Sure,” Sora agreed and matched Mimi’s step as they walked away.

*****

_For Daisuke. It was for Daisuke_.

Ken repeated the words to himself like a mantra, ceaseless and loud, like that would block out everything else fighting for his attention.He hunched over his desk, focused on the math in front of him, ignoring the building ache along his spine, the roiling unease just at the edge of his awareness. Various pieces of the Kimeramon project were scattered about him, on data pads and print out and computer screens, evidence of his frenzied work. He had to finish the work, fix the project. Kimeramon had to be operational as soon as possible.

_For Daisuke_.

The date with Daisuke at the lake had been eye-opening. Ever since they’d returned, he’d been restless, more sure than anything that he was right- something had to change. Daisuke needed help. 

Daisuke was slowly falling apart. It wasn’t just him either; V-mon was obviously being affected, both by events and Daisuke’s attitude. And if V-mon was upset, Wormmon wouldn’t be far behind. It was Ken’s family and he couldn’t just stand by and watch things worsen.

( _And wasn’t he affected as well? Wasn’t he also sick, tired, numb?_ A quiet thought whispered, that Ken did his best not to acknowledge.)

So he went to work, mind spinning, even though his body still begged for rest. He knew the stress wasn’t helping his recovery; he’d been living with a low-grade headache for a week now. He was working at half-strength too, but it was worth it. Anything to keep Daisuke as loose and carefree and happy as he had been on the date; anything to get rid of the strange, battle ready shadow that was marching through the base currently. Daisuke should be that happy and carefree all the time, only Ken had started a war and Daisuke loved him too much to let him fight alone.

_It was for Daisuke_.

Daisuke was clearly stretching himself too thin, between his responsibilities to the Empire and his search for a cure. Even with Ken back in action and resuming his usual work, Daisuke was overworked. Ken knew he’d never convince Daisuke to abandon his search and as he wasn’t just going to magically get better, that meant easing Daisuke’s responsibilities as general. Which was what Kimeramon was for. Whatever Ken’s original reservations about the project, Daisuke needed it and that was all that mattered.

He’d had more than enough time to think over the project’s many problems. He’d found places where he could shave down the code, make it neater; found ways to lessen Kimeramon’s power, lighten the strain on the Ring. He’d worked on it endlessly.

However, staring around himself at the mess of work, he had to admit it wouldn’t be enough. No amount of work on Kimeramon would fit it within the Ring’s limitations. Improvements to the Rings would have to be made. Which he’d known, known even before he’d sat down to work; he’d just been trying to ignore it.

_For Daisuke_.

Ken stood and began to clean up the mess on his desk, stacking and putting away the many papers, closing the files open on the computer and data pads. Once the desk was clean, he sat back down and began opening the files containing the Ring schematics. Created new project files. Took a deep breath and began. 

He wasn’t sure how much time he spent, marking off different parts of the code, where he thought improvements could be made. Checking inventory listings, as he was sure different materials would help greatly. He had learned so much since he’d finalized the Rings’ design, it was almost easy.

Of course, however easily the work came, it would have to be tested. He couldn’t have Kimeramon be the trial run; that was asking for disaster. There were plenty of Ringed digimon stationed at the base. A good portion didn’t even have positions, they were simply being held in reserve. He could use them as test subjects.

Despite his building unease and nausea, Ken pulled up lists of all the digimon currently stationed at the base. He chose the most suitable for the experiments, using half-remembered requirements from the original experiments. Once he had a decent sized list, he set it aside and looked back over the rest of the work he’d done. He stilled.

It had been years since he’d first done those first experiments. Time, trauma, fury- all had combined to dull his usually pristine memory. He could recite the Ring’s coding line for line, but the actual experiments were foggy around the edges, distant and indistinct. However, the files of the original experiments still existed, buried deep where he wouldn’t have to look at them often. He should probably dig them up and look them over, make sure he had all the necessary information going forward.

_For Daisuke._

_Well,_ he thought a few minutes later, staring at the files. _This was a mistake_.

He’d forgotten there were recordings. What a stupid thing to forget.

This was not going to be fun.

He sighed, rubbed the back of his neck where the ache was building steadily. At least he was in the private study; he’d be able to hear the others return and close the files without them seeing. Protect them for a bit longer. He steeled himself, clicked open one of the recordings, and tried to maintain a purely analytical mindset as he observed.

(Buried deep in the back of his head, some part of him started screaming.)

It was one of the early trials, when the Ring’s control wasn’t total. When digimon could struggle through the orders, despite great pain and a high risk of damaging themselves. Ken watched the digimon fight the control, trying to stay unaffected and mark down what he needed. He watched them struggle against the Rings until they broke under the strain and were cut down, no longer of use. He listened to them scream.

Moreover, he watched _himself_. Watched himself take notes and observations with the clinical detachment he was currently struggling to maintain; watched himself slaughter any digimon who proved useless without blinking. The worst part though, _the worst_ , was watching that calm, uncaring facade break with every scream and be replaced with a sadistic glee.

Ken paused the recording. He stood up, walked calmly to the nearest bathroom, and threw up.

It didn’t do anything to lessen the sick feeling in his stomach or the chill across his skin. He washed his mouth and walked back to the study, where he collapsed into his chair and stared numbly up at the paused video. The him in that video felt so far removed from him currently. Ken knew he wasn’t a good person, that he had a penchant for cruelty, especially when he was angry. But it had been a long time since he’d felt the level of sadism, since he taken true joy in causing pain.

He’d been so fucked up back then. He could see that now, looking back. His head had been full of the white noise of war, rage, grief, desperation; too many terrible events stacked on top of each other, and he’d never bothered to deal with any of it. He’d just kept going, kept fighting because at that point fighting was all he knew, even when he’d become desperate to keep the others out of it.

He hadn’t been able to face the thought of losing someone else, and he’d come so close so many times. Realizing it was never going to end, that there would always be another enemy, had been a blow to an already fragile mental state. Anything had seemed reasonable if it kept the others safe, if it meant an _end_. And from that feeling had come the thought: if he was in control, if he ruled, then there wouldn’t be another enemy. He could end a threat before it began.

Once he’d started, everything had come easy. The pain of the others hadn’t reached him at all. And yeah, he’d even taken enjoyment in it, a certain sadistic glee. He hadn’t been able to get at the gods of the Digital World after all, at the ones who Chose them, gave them their marching orders. But he could get at the ones he was supposed to protect. He could conquer them and Ring them and watch the realization of his betrayal bloom in their eyes. It had been just as good. A fitting revenge.

Now, he couldn’t even stomach the sight of what he’d done.

Which forced the realization he’d been trying to ignore since he’d begun: that despite the necessity of the project, how much Daisuke needed it, he couldn’t do it again.

He _couldn’t do it again_.

The war had hardened Daisuke, twisted him. But for Ken, the opposite had happened. He had softened over time, living in the base far away from battle, surrounded by his family, touched only rarely by the tragedy of war. He’d recovered, in a way, unnoticed and only slightly, but recovered.

Of course he had; Daisuke had always had that effect on him. Daisuke had been the one to pull him out of a vicious spiral of grief over Osamu and Ryo; had comforted him after every terrible battle and injury; was friend and lover, home and safety, his perfect other half. As soon as he’d let Daisuke in with regards to the Empire, Daisuke had been a balm on every dark impulse and festering wound that had driven him so far.

Everything that had allowed him to embrace that level of sadism was gone now. He couldn’t do it again. Some part of him was still screaming.

The pain in his neck sharpened, like someone had slipped a knife between his vertebrae. He whimpered, the sound forced out half from surprise at the sudden change.

_What about Daisuke_? A quiet, nasty thought emerged, pulsing in time to the pain. _Just going to abandon him then?_

Ken’s heart sank. He pressed a hand over his eyes, pain and fear and a rising desperation making them burn. It wasn’t like he’d defaulted to the Kimeramon, not with all his doubts about it. He’d considered other options, but there wasn’t anything else. He could throw as many Ringed digimon at the Chosen as he wanted, but they’d already proven themselves stronger and more skilled than anything the Rings could hold. He could fight them himself, but Daisuke wouldn’t let him fight alone and he couldn’t hide it from him for long. He’d tried to create other projects similar to the Kimeramon, but they’d all ended up with the same problems, so he’d abandoned them. He’d tried to find another option, until it felt like his brain was liquefying from a stress migraine. There were no other options.

It was Kimeramon, or watch the war twist Daisuke about until he imploded. Until he couldn’t recognize Daisuke at all.

Ken pressed his head to the cool surface of his desk. He felt sick in a way that had nothing to do with his illness. He was caught between two conflicting needs. Desperate to help Daisuke, to save Daisuke as Daisuke had spent a lifetime saving him, especially since it was his war destroying Daisuke. But he couldn’t, couldn’t be that boy again, plucking wings off butterflies just to prove he could. Moreover, he didn’t want to be that boy again. Didn’t want to return to that headspace, so twisted around inside he didn’t know north from south. He didn’t _like_ that boy. And he couldn't see how the rest of his family would either.

Every part of him stilled; the nasty, quiet voice, the endless screaming, all went silent. Ken wondered, suddenly, unsure why he hadn’t thought it before, if Daisuke would approve of him pushing himself so far for his sake. If Daisuke would hate him for committing such atrocities in his name, allowing the war to twist him like it was twisting Daisuke.

If he improved the Rings, would Daisuke still recognize him when he was done? Would Wormmon?

The knife-sharp pain exploded, indefinable, inescapable. Ken collapsed out of his chair onto the floor, wholly consumed by pain, and started screaming.

*****

The scream echoed through the base.

Daisuke dropped what he was doing and took off in a deadrun, heart already pounding. His thoughts raced as he flew through the base for Ken’s study. Was it an enemy? Had the Chosen found them somehow? Was Ken injured?

There were slave digimon gathered around the door to the living area, caught between the need to help the Kaiser and strict orders to never go through that door. “Move!” he barked, not slowing in the slightest. The digimon scrambled out of his way. He opened the door by slamming into it, not breaking stride as he ran for the study.

Ken was on the floor in front of his desk, back arched up in a tight curve. Both of his hands were clawing at the back of his neck. Daisuke slammed to his knees next to him and grabbed his wrists, yanked them between them. There was blood under Ken’s fingernails. “Ken,” he called loudly as Ken struggled within his hold, “Ken, stop!”

Ken shook his head, tears leaking out. “It hurts,” he gritted out. His struggles increased, until he he ended up slamming his head down onto the wood floor with a heavy _thunk_. “It hurts, get it out!”

Daisuke wrapped both arms around Ken’s back, yanking him forward so his hands were trapped between their chests. It allowed him to better retrain Ken, holding him tight so he couldn’t slamm his head again. Ken kept struggling, a mindless thing, crying. “I know, I know, I’m sorry,” Daisuke muttered.

Ken struggled a bit more, then went still in his hold. Every muscle was still clenched tight and he didn’t stop crying. “Get it out,” he sobbed, broken and desperate and young. Daisuke could see the back of his neck now; his stomach roiled with horror. Ken’s neck was mangled, skin shredded in thick ugly lines that poured blood. “Please get it out.”

Daisuke closed his eyes against that voice, against the sight of Ken’s neck, against the desperate helplessness flooding through him. “Shh, shh, it’s alright,” he tried, but he couldn’t put much force behind the words. “I’m here. I’m here, you don’t have to be scared.”

Ken curled into his arms, sobbing openly. It felt like forever before Ken’s crying stopped and he dropped abruptly into unconsciousness. Daisuke held still for a second, then relaxed and looked down at Ken’s face. It was drawn tight with pain still; he was crying even in his sleep. Daisuke bowed his head and sighed shakily. He drew one hand down his face, fighting his own panicked tears.

Daisuke sat up fully and had to turn away. He was shaking, he realized, a full-bodied, unending shudder of horror. That was-- that was-- new. Even the worst of Ken’s migraines never came close to this, had never broken him so bad, made him scream. And his neck…

Daisuke took a deep breath and turned back to Ken, rolled him over carefully so he could look at his neck. It was a mess, the cuts ragged and surprisingly deep-- it would take weeks to heal and might scar.

He sat there for a long time, staring, doing his best not to cry himself. His arms hung by his sides. The study had never felt so large, so empty, so unfamiliar; so unlike the safe place they called home.

Daisuke closed his eyes and felt very, very small.

What was he supposed to do against that? Against-- against Ken literally tearing himself apart? Against a whole world that had taken so much and refused to give the only thing he’d ever asked for?

He couldn’t. It was too big. He was just one person.

_Please, just tell me how to save him._

Daisuke opened his eyes, ignoring how they burned, and swallowed. “Ok,” he said, “Ok. Get up.” He forced himself to his knees. He hung there for a moment, counting breaths. “Now move,” he ordered. 

So he did.

He turned to Ken, slid his arms under Ken’s body, and lifted. He carried Ken out of the room to the infirmary. His mind was white noise. He very carefully didn’t feel anything at all.

And despite that, his heart raced with fear, with helplessness. It felt like a clock counting down.

*****

An odd stillness had fallen over the usually tempestuous digimon village. The digimon there, a tough people used to living in a wind-scarred home, moved cautiously, wary and unsure why. They eyed their surroundings with a growing apprehension.

The area was flat, the little vegetation stripped clean by the wind. Asides from the village, which was full of small, protected huts, the plain was empty. It allowed any approaching threats to be seen long before it reached the village. But there was nothing to justify the slowly building anxiety.

The sun was setting by the time a threat materialized. XV-mon’s shadow was smaller than normal in the waning light, though it didn’t matter; he didn’t attack, they didn’t need an early warning. XV-mon coasted to a stop just outside the village boundaries, then ignored them completely.

The Knight leapt from his back, more shadow than human boy. It was not the first time the Knight had flown to their village, though they lived far from the front lines of the war and the Empire had never shown them any interest. The Knight came through and went away, always giving them only the bare minimum of attention. His reputation had been more than enough to keep them in line and both sides ignored each other as best they could.

So it had been, so it was. Only, Full Metal City had happened and even isolated, hard little villages like theirs had heard the whispers carried by soldier and spies and optimists. The war was shifting, they said, the Empire was weakening. The Knight’s reputation was not so imposing anymore.

When an Alraumon marched over to the two, cocky with youth and untested skill, it both was and wasn’t a surprise. It was what all of them wished to do, had considered amongst themselves, and never before dared to carry through.

“You’re not welcome here,” Alraumon said, fierce and firm and she only faltered a little when the Knight went completely still.

The stillness lasted for a long moment. Then the Knight turned slowly on his heel to look at Alraumon. His mouth was a flat line beneath the stark cut of his mask; his eyes gleamed pale in the dim light. “And you’re going to stop me?” he asked.

“Yes,” Alraumon said, and now her voice wavered just the slightest.

There was a click, an electric hum that filled the air, then a sword tip burst through Alraumon’s back. The Knight pulled his sword free, ignoring Alraumon’s death, and focused on the village. He didn’t ask if they agreed with Alraumon’s actions, only stalked forward with his sword held at the ready and what little expression was visible set and grim.

*****

Koushiro focused on the outgoing call message on his phone, on the trick of the clock, on the chill of the desk under his fingers. On anything, _anything_ , that wasn’t his computer; wasn't the information Tentomon had sent. When the call clicked through, he couldn’t help his sigh of relief.

“Hikari speaking,” Hikari answered promptly.

“It’s Koushiro,” he said, “There’s… been a development. Do you have a minute?”

“Yeah, I’m good. What’s wrong?”

Koushiro sighed and, somewhat accidentally, glanced up at his screen. At the long, long list of Motomiya’s recent collateral damage. A mixture of horror and disbelief rose as nausea thick in his throat. He swiftly looked away. “It’s Motomiya,” he said once he was sure the emotion wouldn’t show through too strongly.

There was a pause, then Hikari asked, in a tone of resignation, “What’s he done now?”

Koushiro bit down on the thought that Motomiya had lost his fucking mind. That wouldn’t be useful. The younger kids looked to him for information, clear of emotion or bias. And also for _new_ information, not something they’d all suspected for months. “These past few weeks, our spies have noted his behavior has been… odd. He’s no longer matching the Empire’s movements, he’s diverted completely. Every sighting of him recently has been about his search.”

“So he’s completely abandoned his work as the Knight?” Hikari asked.

“Yes,” Koushiro agreed and wished it was the good news it should be. No general leading armies, no assassin dropping from the sky, and certainly no one playing mind games with the team. It should have been a boon and that it wasn’t, was instead an outburst of violence on a level they’d yet to see from Motomiya-- it felt a little like something was laughing at them. “However, he’s gotten vicious, Hikari-kun. Anything that gets in his way, he cuts down. 7 different digimon villages have been wiped off the map.”

There was a long pause from the other end. Then, in a soft, horrified voice, “ _Fuck_.”

Koushiro glanced back at the information Tentomon had sent, forced himself to look. The casualty list was impossibly long. The eye witness reports from the very few survivors. Motomiya hadn’t gone out of his way to attack; reports indicated an almost single-minded focus on his task. But when something caught his attention, prohibited his search, it was an explosion. Everything in the area was destroyed indiscriminately, regardless of how much or how little it had to do originally with interfering. It was so different from Motomiya’s usual precision. It felt more like a force of nature had torn through rather than a person.

Koushiro couldn’t put a finger on exactly what, but the whole thing filled him with a deep sense of _wrong_. “Whatever he's after, he wants it bad.”

Hikari sighed, then said, hesitant, “I’ll talk to Miyako-chan. Tell her to speed up the search.”

Koushiro grimaced but didn’t protest, as much as he felt her hesitation. It had been a while since he’d had the time to visit Miyako but the way Mimi was talking-- guilt and fury and a familiar uselessness painted bitterness across his tongue. First Iori, now Miyako. If he thought Miyako would give it up, he’d take this burden back from her immediately. But it was her mission now, and she seemed determined to finish it.

He just had to hope it didn’t destroy her first.

“Hikari-kun, be careful,” he urged, “Motomiya…. Something has unhinged that boy. It isn’t safe.”

“I know. I will be,” Hikari promised. Then, soft, unsure, “Koushiro-san?”

“What do you need? He asked. There was something terrifyingly young in her voice, but it was also a relief. Sometimes, and more often by the day, Hikari sounded like a soldier, with nothing young or soft or bright left in her.

“I… I need you to look into someone. Akiyama Ryo.”

“I can do that,” he agreed, not without some puzzlement. “Is he important?”

“More than I originally assumed, I think,” Hikari answered, “And don’t… not just here. Look in the Digital World too.”

Koushiro stilled. “You think he’s Chosen?” he asked, caught equally between a relieved _thank god_ and a horrified _not another one_.

“... I think he was.”

Oh.

Koushiro let out a long breath. “Yeah. Okay, I’ll do it.”

“Thank you,” Hikari said with what Koushiro thought was an unnecessary amount of gratitude.

“Happy to help,” he said.

They gave their goodbyes and the call ended. Koushiro returned to his work and tried hard not to think about the sheer mass of death being dealt in the Digital World. That way led a kind of horrified devastation he wasn’t sure he could handle.

*****

_“What’s that sound?”_

_“That would be the ceiling.”_

_“Run. Run!”_

_Running-- running-- thunder-- the ceiling, the walls, caving in, rocks falling-- surrounded he was-- trapped--_

_“Yo, Hida.”_

Iori snapped awake, panting and half-sobbing, terror still pounding through him. He pressed his hands to his eyes, until light bloomed behind his eyelids. He tried to breathe, but it felt like someone had put his lungs in a vice; every breath came short and shallow and not helpful at all.

God, he was so _tired_. He hadn’t slept well all week. Hell, all month. The nightmares weren’t stopping. Despite his physical health getting better every day, despite his emotional health improving with the others’ help, the nightmares persisted. Sometimes they were better, and he could go back to sleep. Other times he woke up and catapulted straight into a panic attack.

He just wanted to sleep.

He needed it. Was coming close to the edge of sleep deprivation, which would only slow his recovery even more. He’d seen what lack of sleep had done to Hikari and he didn’t think he could handle that right now.

Just below his own ragged breathing, Iori suddenly heard someone else breathing nearby. In any other situation, he would reach the easy, obvious conclusion. Right now, already upset, adrenaline still pounding, he didn’t think.

He panicked.

He sat up hurriedly, eyes snapping wide open. It was pitch black in the room. No matter where he looked, how hard he focused, he couldn’t see anything. He couldn’t see the exit. He was trapped.

He flailed wildly, uncaring of direction, struggling under the weight of the blanket. The slight restriction was enough to set him off further. He jerked about, keen rising in his throat, and abruptly tumbled off the edge of the bed.

He barely felt the pain of hitting the ground. He didn’t bother rising up, barely got further up than his elbows; he just scrambled backwards mindlessly, eyes blindly and wildly scanning the dark. His back collided with his nightstand with a heavy thump.

Iori froze. He sat in the dark, practically hyperventilating, keyed to any slight noise in the dark. He couldn’t-- he was trapped. He-- he needed-- he couldn’t breathe.

He needed help.

Without thinking, he reached up to the night stand. He felt around until he felt the cool metal of his phone under his fingers, then picked it up. He fumbled it, hands shaking, and ended up clutching it close once he regained his grip.

The light from the screen was blinding, made his eyes water even further, but his chest loosened with the banished shadows. His trembling fingers slowly started the call. However, it wasn’t until the call went out and started ringing that Iori fully realized what he was doing. He froze again, staring wide- and teary-eyed at his phone, breath hiccuping. He didn’t move to end the call, only watched it ring endlessly.

Finally, the other end picked up. “Hmugh, hel-lo?” Takeru mumbled, sleep-rough and slurring.

Iori didn’t answer.

There was a shuffling sound over the phone before Takeru asked, still sounding half-asleep, “Iori-kun?”

Iori _couldn’t_ answer. His voice felt trapped in his throat, strangle-held by his panic.

Something of his panic must have been audible, because Takeru sounded much more awake when he asked, demanded, “Iori-kun? What’s wrong?”

“...I-” he started, then stopped immediately. Had to stop, because his voice cracked wetly and his breath caught. 

It was amazing how quickly Takeru changed, lost his sharpness for something warm and soft and undemanding. “Okay, it’s okay. Just breathe with me, Iori. You’re okay.”

Iori did as asked, tried his best to match Takeru’s even breathing. He was already coming down from his panic attack, but it still took several tries to match. Finally, after several minutes, his breathing was steady, his heartbeat calm; he could think again.

The light of his phone revealed the familiar landscape of his bedroom; Upamon still sleeping at the foot of his bed, a step below snoring. Iori knew from experience it would take nothing short of screaming to wake him up. Iori felt a little foolish with his panic, but mostly relieved.

“I’m alright,” he said. His voice was still rough, but it didn’t break and he got through.

There was a beat of silence, then Takeru let out a loud breath. “Alright, good, that’s… that’s good.”

Takeru’s relief was palpable enough that Iori grimaced. “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be,” Takeru said immediately.

“I woke you up.”

“Yeah,” Takeru agreed with a sigh. “But I’m, I’m glad you called. That I could help.”

Iori smiled, warm and honest. “Thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it. You sure you’re okay?”

“I… yeah, now,” he said. He focused on Upamon, watched the steady rise and fall of his body. It was actually pretty soothing.

“Alright. If you’re sure.” Takeru paused before saying, soft and encouraging, “Talk to me. You can tell me anything.”

Iori believed him. He was realizing he probably owed Takeru an apology; Takeru was so much stronger than he seemed, than Iori had originally thought. He could handle Iori’s weakness.

Iori was beginning to think they could handle _each other’s_ weakness, if they tried, if they allowed themselves to share. The idea warmed him through, brought an unexpected relief. After everything, the idea of not having to carry it all by himself made a strange kind of glee bubble up.

“Dreams,” he admitted. Takeru made a pained but sympathetic sound. “I’d thought they’d get better over time, but they haven’t at all. Then, when I wake up…”

“Something happen?” Takeru urged when he trailed off.

Iori glanced around the room. It was just his room, familiar and safe; that silly feeling at having overreacted so strongly surged up again. It didn’t make admitting the truth any easier. “I’ve, since I was hurt…”

Takeru waited through his silence this time, patient and understanding and undemanding.

It made it somewhat easier to blurt out, “I’m afraid of the dark.” Immediately, he closed his eyes in embarrassment. God, he sounded like a child.

But Takeru just made another sympathetic sound.

So Iori sucked down that sharp mortification and continued, “And being underground, too. Or just, any enclosed space. I can’t handle being trapped.”

“Because of the cave-in,” Takeru said.

“Yeah,” Iori agreed.

A tension he hadn’t noticed before fell away with the confession. He sighed in relief. He would have to tell the others soon, he knew. Being so afraid to go underground that he froze up and had a panic attack could drastically affect the team. They needed to know before he put them in danger. Takeru’s easy acceptance was a boon. Admitting his limitations to the team suddenly seemed much less daunting.

“I don’t know what I can do, but, if you need help again, I’m here.”

Iori smiled to himself. “Thank you.”

“It’s not a problem,” Takeru said quietly, “You going back to sleep?”

Iori honestly wasn’t sure, so he didn’t say anything.

“Want me to stay up with you?” Takeru asked immediately.

“...Please?” he asked.

“Of course,” Takeru agreed, warm and gentle.

Iori climbed back onto the bed, settling in and listening to the steady, even rhythm of Takeru’s voice. He wasn’t sure how long they stayed up talking, but eventually Takeru began to waver and stumble, words slurring together. Then Iori begged off, allowing Takeru to go back to sleep. Iori smiled as he hung up, and it lingered for a long time.


	20. A Kind Voice, Half-Forgotten

Yamato’s living room was dark, the blinds drawn to block out the midday sun. The heat of summer didn’t quite reach, leaving it pleasantly cool. Takeru sank into the couch in relief, muscles going lax as tension he hadn’t been aware of fell away. His head filled with a pleasant white noise, blocking out the anxieties of the past few weeks. He could hear Yamato bustling around in the kitchen, but he didn’t give it much thought.

It was peaceful here, safe, and he didn’t have to worry about Yamato the way he did his team. He could relax here, be off-guard. It was a break he desperately needed. 

Exhaustioned dragged him down into a daze, not quite sleep; it felt like his bones were made of lead. He’d been sleeping well enough, without night terrors or even a normal nightmare to disrupt him but it never seemed to be enough. When he woke up, he was still tired.

He was aware of Yamato moving into the living room, doing his best to be quiet as he cleaned around the couch. Takeru kept drifting instead of snapping awake like he would have anywhere else. This wasn’t the kind of place where he had to be alert, had to keep track of everything and everyone; had to know how the team was doing and where their heads were at.

There was a pause in Yamato’s shuffling, then a sigh, then a dip of weight near his head, like Yamato was braced above him. Takeru opened one eye to look up at his brother; he got a single look at Yamato’s face naked with concern before it shuttered behind disgruntlement. “You’re an idiot,” Yamato said, soft and without venom. Takeru smiled slightly. “Go to sleep. For real sleep. I’ll watch over you.”

The promise soothed him in ways he hadn’t been expecting. His eyes slid shut and he was half-asleep before he realized it. He sighed and sunk deeper into the couch, let everything else fade away. The Kaiser himself could sit down for tea and it wouldn’t matter to him right then. He fell away.

His dreams were too disconnected to be nightmares, only flashes of battles, of the strange grey cloud that hung over the team, of a sense of failure that haunted the edges and had no reason. It all faded before he could make sense of any of it. He floated through, not quite touched by the dreams The familiar yellow of his Crest permeated but it brought no comfort. It sat faded and dull and bitter on his tongue; it hung around his team in varying shades but none of them were the bright vibrance he was used to Miyako was dim enough enough she shone grey.

He woke slowly, groaning, to the sound of his phone beeping. Takeru reached for it blindly, not moving from where he’d buried his head in a pillow, and managed to turn off the alarm from muscle memory. For a long second, he didn’t move again. If the alarm was going off, he’d slept for at least two hours and somehow he felt even more tired than he had before.

He made himself sit up eventually, scrubbed a hand over his face and across the scar on his neck. He tried to convince himself of the necessity of standing.

“Going already?” Yamato asked.

Takeru nodded wearily, not looking up. His head felt strangely heavy and the dreams, the yellow-grey that sat oddly in his chest, lingered. “There’s a team meeting.”

“You don’t have to go,” Yamato said,, “Hikari-kun will understand missing one meeting.”

“Yeah, she would,” he agreed with a small nod. He looked up at Yamato finally. Yamato sat on the other couch, illuminated by his laptop, brows furrowed. He drug up a wan smile and added, “And yeah, I do.”

Yamato snorted, shaking his head. Takeru didn’t respond, because he wasn’t sure he could put it into words even if he had to. There wasn’t a reason; it wasn’t something logical. He had to go, simply. 

His presence wasn’t a necessity; he didn’t have a head for tactics on the level Koushiro and Hikari were playing. His contributions were limited at best. And his ego wasn’t big enough to think they really _needed_ him on such a daily basis. The others were tough, they wouldn’t collapse as soon as he wasn’t there to offer support. No, they could survive a while without him. No one would demand his attendance; Hikari could always fill him in later.

It was simply that he had to go. He had a duty and he had to answer it. Always.

Yamato sighed when he didn’t say anything further. “You’re taking on too much,” Yamato warned as he stood.

Takeru grimaced at his brother’s back as Yamao went about opening the blinds. “Probably,” he agreed.

Yamato shook his head as he turned to walk over. “You need to get some rest later.”

“I will,” he promised.

“I’ll fight you,” Yamato warned, firm stare squally in place like it had ever fooled Takeru into thinking he wasn’t worried.

He smiled and laughed quietly, warmth burning away the lingering dregs of sleep. “Got it,” he said.

Yamato walked him to the door, where Takeru slowly dragged his shoes on and picked up the store bag he’d brought with him. Yamato leaned against a nearby wall with a curious look. “What’s in the bag?”

“It’s for Iori-kun,” he answered, stuffing the bag between his hands, listening to the plastic crinkle.

“How’s he doing?” Yamato asked.

Takeru smiled down at the bag. “He’s doing good,” Takeru said, thinking back to the morning, to the daily walk to school he, Iori, and Miyako shared. Iori had looked fine, strong, unaffected by his late night panic attack except for the loss of sleep. Takeru hadn’t really thought that the attack would set Iori’s recovery back a significant amount, but it was still reassuring to see, especially after everything Iori had admitted to that night.

But that was Iori, always so steady on. Even now, after everything, he could see Iori piecing back together that familiar steel core Takeru had always admired. Even with all his new fears and anxieties and scars, Iori kept on, refused to be brought down again.

Takeru shuffled the bag between his hands. It was just a nightlight, a stupid, little thing, utterly plain. So uselessly small against the enormity of what Iori was going through, what he’d admitted to. But it was what Takeru could offer; he couldn’t do anything for Iori’s other problems, couldn’t chase away the nightmares or banish his phobias. But he could ease it, be a comforting voice at night or a tiny light when it got too dark.

It felt like too little, but Iori always looked so grateful at the slightest bit of assistance. Truthfully Takeru wasn’t sure what to do with all of it. Certainly, e was glad Iori had loosened up since the beginning; he’d been so- so- not deferential, but aware and respectful of the years and experience between between himself and the others. Takeru prefered what they had now, what they’d built together after Full Metal City and the dam. The equality, but more the easy give and take of understanding, of compassion and small kindnesses.

Takeru liked it, liked the easy way he worked with Iori, how they fit together. Liked, _needed_ , how talking with Iori settled and smoothed the jagged stones in his own stomach. Quieted his unspoken doubts, eased the pressure on his lungs, made the recently bitter, off-color yellow taste of his Crest easier to handle.

Helping Iori purged some of the shadows in himself Takeru had wholly realized existed. It was good for him; _Iori_ was good for him.

He prefered it, he liked it, but at the same time, it was a little overwhelming, a little terrifying. The respect and admiration in Iori’s eyes had turned to a naked, vulnerable trust that made him uneasy.

Nevermind that Iori’s loyalty and trust was bone-deep and rock-steady, was unflinching and unending in ways that could mean great, terrible things if only Iori’s morality didn’t run so deep, if only he was a little more volatile, a little more like _Motomiya_. Nevermind all that. 

The problem was that sometimes, Iori looked at him and saw a much better man than Takeru actually was.

Takeru was aware of his flaws, perhaps too aware. For every ounce of steadiness Iori had, Takeru was mercurial; _he_ was volatile in the way they were so lucky Iori wasn’t; he was given to rage, to pettiness, to explosions of sudden violence He tried not to be. He practiced patience as much as he could, made himself softer than he was, watched the shadows in the back of his head he knew were there, waiting. He knew himself, every dark spot he wanted to ignore- the bad, the traumatic, the traumatized, he knew them all. He was nothing like what Iori saw in him

But oh, he wanted to be. Someone Iori looked at with that much faith, it would be a good person to be.

And he had no idea how to not betray it all- Iori’s trust, his own wishes, the connection they’d built between them. He wished he had Iori’s steadiness, because there was no way it didn’t all blow up in his face. He got too carried away by his emotions at the worst of times for it not to.

Takeru sighed and shook his head to banish the thoughts. He looked back up at Yamato, grimacing at his brother’s expression; more of his thoughts must have shown on his face than he’d wanted. “I have to go,” he said.

Yamato watched him for a long second with doubtful eyes, then nodded. “Alright. Be careful,” he said.

“I will be.” Takeru smiled at Yamato, at how Yamato never lost that look of doubt, because there was nothing else he could do. He hurried out, heading for the Yagami’s apartment building.

*****

Hikari started a little as a hand touched her shoulder, jolting her from her total focus on her notes. She looked up and found Koushiro leaning over her. She blinked. She hadn’t noticed him arrive; hadn’t noticed him set up his laptop and papers. She’d been wholly consumed with her own organizing for the meeting.

Taichi gave her a curious look as he moved past, still anxiously rearranging the living room. There wasn’t any need for it, there never was. But Hikari understood that almost desperate need to be useful, how Taichi not being able to fight probably made him feel like shit every time her team left; if making sure the meetings ran smoothly eased the edge, Hikari was content to let him rearrange the living room another eight dozen times.

Koushiro’s expression was set and grim. “Can we talk?” Koushiro asked, “It’s about Akiyama.”

Hikari tensed up unwillingly, an anxious twisting of her stomach briefly stealing her breath. She couldn’t help but glance around, at Taichi, at Iori was sitting patiently on the far couch waiting for the others to arrive. Neither showed much interest beyond a questioning look, trusting her to tell them when she needed to. It did admittedly make her feel bad for not saying anything so far. She put her notes down and led Koushiro to the kitchen. Koushiro’s expression was still solemn; a chill crept down her spine.

She could admit to still feeling some division over her decision about having Koushiro look into Akiyama. Logically, she knew it was a good idea to at least attempt to investigate Daisuke’s claims. There was always the chance it could provide insight into his plans, or at least into the kind of mind games he was trying next.

And a part of her did want to know. Wanted to know more, more about the Digital World, about the history of the Chosen and her place in it. About Daisuke’s own history, the things that had twisted him; the things that had made him at once both the Knight and the desperate boy she’d seen in the ruins over the dam who brimmed with a sick betrayal.

Yet there was another part of her that didn’t actually want to know, not really. It was the same part of her that believed the terrible things Daisuke had told her about the Digital World. She didn’t want the confirmation; she wanted to continue denying it. To maintain the view she had of the Digital World where the Chosen weren’t used as battle-fodder then forgotten about.

Hikari fought it all down, focused on Koushiro with all the professionalism she could muster. “Well?”

“It’s a lot of what you’ve already found. He lived in Odaiba. He was fourteen when he disappeared. The police never found any leads on what happened to him. He was an average student, nothing really stood out about him,” Koushiro said, “However, he did know the Ichijouji’s. The Kaiser’s older brother, Osamu, he would have been about Akiyama’s age. It’s not much, but I did find some evidence that they were friends.”

“Older brother?” Hikari echoed, trying to remember if anything about him had ever been mentioned. That meeting where they’d first discussed Ichijouji felt like forever ago. Last month felt like forever ago. “What do we know about him? Can we talk to him about this?”

“He died,” Koushiro said with a sigh. “It was a long time ago. There was a car accident. He was run over.”

“Oh, hell,” she muttered.

“It was a mess of a thing,” Koushiro continued, some mixture of sadness and pity in his voice. “Even asides from the actual death… apparently genius runs in the family. He was just as smart as the Kaiser, maybe more, and just as famous. When he died, well, once the gossip rags got a hold of the story, everything went to hell. There were claims of child abuse, neglect, that Osamu had been overworked. That it wasn’t an accident, the driver had intentionally targeted Osamu. Or that, or that it wasn’t an accident, Osamu had intentionally stepped out in front of the car. Just, whatever they could say to sell papers.”

“Poor kid,” she muttered.

“It was all bullshit, of course. No one really listened. However, The Kaiser, he was only eight at the time. It would have hit him hard. And, Akiyama’s disappearance was only about two months before that.”

She pressed a hand to her eyes until spots appeared. “God I can’t imagine the effect to Ichijouji,” she muttered.

“Yeah. Then there’s the Digital World,” Koushiro said, “I had my contacts ask around about Akiyama. Now technically, no one knew it, no one recognized it. However, Tentomon says that, about half the digimon he asked, they got this look.”

“Look?”

“Like, for a second, they recognized the name. Like it was on the tip of their tongue, and then it was gone.”

“So they did know him. And they did forget,” Hikari said with resignation.

There was a pause, then Koushiro huffed a sigh and nodded. “Yeah, that’s my conclusion too,” he agreed.

“Goddamnit,” she hissed, sinking back against the counter with a heavy sigh.

“Additionally,” Koushiro continued, “while there is no actual proof that Akiyama was ever in the Digital World asides from that, there are some striking similarities between his disappearance and Ichijouji’s. While I have no evidence, I think it’s doubtless he was actually in the Digital World. It’s more than probable that Akiyama’s disappearance inspired Ichijouji’s years later.”

“So he went to the Digital World one day and never came home,” she said in a quiet voice, staring down at her hands clasped in front of her. _He died before he could_ , she thought and didn’t say. It felt wrong; a tragedy that wasn’t hers to mourn.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t get more,” Koushiro said.

“It’s fine,” she assured. But she couldn’t help thinking about the desperation in Daisuke’s voice as he’d talked about Akiyama, couldn’t help wondering at it. At the helplessness, the anger. More importantly, at how fresh it was, raw and open and not at all eight years old. There was something there, hiding beneath that twisted mess, the puzzle piece she was missing.

Akiyama Ryo seemed so connected and yet so distant. It didn’t sit right to her. An incomplete truth like Daisuke was so good at.

There was a knock at the front door. Hikari watched as Taichi answered it and let Takeru in. Takeru looked… not good, but alright; tired, a kind of exhaustion that spoke of more than a night of missed sleep, but his smile was sincere. 

“I’ll keep looking into it,” Koushiro promised, drawing her attention back, “Someone has to know something.”

“Thank you,” she said, smiling slightly, “But there are other things that are more important. Don’t wear yourself out.”

“No, it’s… I want to. Something doesn’t feel right,” Koushiro said.

“Alright. But later,” she said.

“Yeah, okay,” Koushiro agreed and began walking back to the group. Hikari followed.

Takeru was talking to Iori in a quiet voice, their heads bent towards each other. Takeru was holding out a small bag for Iori. It was obviously a private moment, one Hikari tried her best not to overhear as she sat back down with her notes.

“I know it’s not much,” Takeru was saying so gently, “But I’ve got your back. If it ever gets too much, you just tell me and I’ll get you out of there. I promise.”

“Thank you,” Iori replied, taking the bag from him. His expression was deeply vulnerable and clearly touched. Hikari smiled down at her notes, ducking her head.

Everyone began to settle in. She could hear Iori messing with whatever Takeru had given him, heard the quiet, pleased sound he made. Takeru himself fell into the seat next to her with a heavy sigh. Hikari chose not to remark on the deep bruises under his eyes, because really, which of them looked any different?

A few minutes later, Miyako arrived. She barely waited for Taichi to fully open the door before she burst in. She hurried to their table, ignoring Taichi’s startled shout; she dumped a small pile of papers onto the coffee table with a wide grin. The exhaustion on her face bordered on a kind of mania.

“I found it,” she said, breathing a little heavily. It took a second for the words to sink in to the whole group, during which Miyako dropped to her knees to begin shifting through the papers. “Or, well, kind of.”

“You mean the thing Motomiya is looking for?” Takeru asked as they all leaned forward automatically.

Miyako nodded, making the tension in the room room climb even higher. After another second of searching, Miyako pulled out a paper: it was a scramble of hand-written notes but Miyako pointed to a dark symbol etched at the top. “This,” she said, shoving it forward.

Hikari squinted at it. It looked like a stylized ‘M’, surrounded by four diamonds- or, maybe those were triangles.

Koushiro took the paper and pulled it closer. “Is that a Crest?” he asked and now that he had, Hikari could recognize the style of it, even if she didn’t know it specifically.

“That’s what I’m thinking,” Miyako agreed, words almost tripping over each other. “Or, or that it’s related in some way. The-the-the areas around that symbol were always talking about the Crests.”

“Breathe,” Takeru said worriedly. Miyako waved at dismissive hand at him.

“It isn’t any Crest I recognize,” Koushiro said.

Taichi shuffled over, peering over Koushiro’s shoulder, and shrugged, shaking his head.

“He’s, Motomiya’s looking for the Digitmental,” Miyako said, messing with her papers again. “Or maybe even the Crest itself. A lot of the places he’s been visiting are connected to the Crests in some way, like the temple where Iori-kun’s Digimental was.” She handed another set of papers to Koushiro, then dragged up herself up onto the couch next to Iori.

“Has there been any other indication of his goals? What he plans to do with it when he finds it?” Takeru asked.

Miyako seemed to shrug with her whole body even while she sank further down. “I mean, asides from the Crests being one of the most powerful objects in the Digital World?”

“Yeah, that’s a point,” Takeru agreed. Then he grimaced, half-confusion. “Only, he already has one.”

“What about where it is? Any leads on it?” Iori asked.

“Yes,” Miyako said with a tilt to her lips that didn’t read as anything but sarcastic. She didn’t roll her eyes, which had slid to half-lidded, but her tone conveyed it clear enough. “Because I managed in a little over a month what the genius boy hasn’t in almost 3 years.”

Iori spread his hands in surrender.

“No, this is enough,” Koushiro said, “Now that we have an idea of what Motomiya is looking for, I can spread the word, have our allies keep an eye out for information. I’m sure someone has to know something.”

“Gennai-san would know,” Hikari said, “At least what it is if not where.”

Koushiro nodded in agreement; he was still looking over Miyako’s notes carefully. “That’s true. I’ll talk to him,” he promised. Then, with a thoughtful hum, he added, “You put a lot of work into this, Miyako-kun. It’s good.”

Miyako nodded as slightly as possible, then let her head drop back against the seat. “Thanks.”

“If there’s nothing else,” Koushiro said, glancing up and around, “Shall we move onto other matters?”

It was on the tip of her tongue to agree. They had so much to get through after all. Then it occurred to her-- of everyone in the Digital World, Gennai would know more about Akiyama than anyone. If she went, she could ask about both issues at once.

She turned to look at Koushiro. “If it’s all the same, I’d prefer to visit Gennai myself.”

Koushiro paused. “You sure?”

“Yes.” She was tired of sitting around and waiting for information to come to her. It hadn’t gotten her anywhere so far.

“Alright,” Koushiro said with a shrug. “Anything else?”

Everyone shook their heads.

“Onto other matters then.” Koushiro placed Miyako’s notes down in a neat pile and pulled his laptop closer. “Now, with regards to Motomiya’s attacks, it's been confirmed he’s targeting sites involved with his search. However, which sites are visited is currently too random to predict. There’s no way we can accurately know where he’ll be and cut him off, not without an absurd amount of luck. We’ve spread word among those villages near his search areas to keep their heads down. The rate of attacks has dropped, so it seems to be having an effect.”

“I wish there was more we could do,” Miyako said, voice so quiet Hikari looked over at her, found she seemed to be struggling to keep her eyes open.

Koushiro shook his head. “Unfortunately, Motomiya had become impossible to track This is the best we can currently manage.”

Miyako sighed with none of her usual fire and didn’t continue protesting.

Koushiro looked back at his laptop. “The war front near Numemon Mountain has shown an strange decrease in Imperial activity, especially with regards to repairs. Now, as far as we can tell, there’s no reason for the decrease, but it has left the area weak. We could easily exploit it if we choose. Hikari-kun?”

Hikari considered it for a long moment. “We aren’t sure why yet?”

Koushiro shook his head. 

“Then no. I don’t trust it. We’ll focus somewhere else,” she said. She glanced around to check the others’ opinions, found Takeru and Iori looked to be in agreement. 

Miyako was asleep, curled up into the cushions, head tucked to her chest. 

Hikari shared a quick look with the others and together reached a silent agreement. Hikari stood and moved to grab a blanket even as she told Koushiro, “Let’s keep an eye on the area anyways, alright?”

Koushiro nodded, adding a note as Hikari draped the blanket over Miyako.Miyako’s expression lost some of its tension as Hikari tucked the blanket around her. Her glasses hung on the tip of her nose, pulled down by the angle of her head. Hikari’s hands twitched with the wish to remove them, but she wasn’t sure how to do it without waking her. She sighed, shook her hands out, and moved to sit down again.

“Now, if we’re not going after the front near Numemon Mountain, we have these options,” Koushiro said, and began listing the points of potential attack he’d found. With one last concerned glance at Miyako, Hikari focused her attention on the information. She had a war to plan.

*****

Ken recovered slowly. Or, well, one could say that if they felt like being kind. Truthfully, Ken didn’t feel like he was recovering at all. He was weak; even as days turned to weeks, his energy didn’t return. A low ache settled into his muscles and wouldn’t go away. And his neck _burned_ , the skin pulled tight over new scars every time he turned his head.

He did his best to pretend he wasn’t nearly as bad off as he felt. It didn’t seem to do anything. Daisuke still felt like a wild, cornered thing-- half-fear, half-fury. Wormmon wouldn't leave him alone, which did admittedly make it harder to hide how ill he was. 

He hadn’t seen V-mon in forever. Certainly, V-mon was nearby, watching over Daisuke. Wormmon said V-mon was helping around the base as well, taking over Wormmon’s responsibilities so Wormmon could be with Ken; sometimes Ken would wake and see V-mon’s shadow haunting the room, but that was it. Ken couldn’t imagine he was his usual sunny self, not with all the sudden weight he was baring.

Ken curled into a tighter ball in the bed, not quite ready to get up just yet. The whole base rung with tension, like a drawn in breath, waiting. He wasn’t sure if it was a result of his illness or just the general air of the base now, but it felt him consumed by an unusual lethargy. Before, the idea of sleeping in was unthinkable; once the need to be working would have propelled him from bed as soon as he woke, but now he draddled.

What would he do anyways? He had no plans, no projects. The Kimeramon Project mocked him every time he dragged himself to his desk and tried to work on something else. Nothing got done; the project weighed too heavy for him to focus on anything.

He knew his other projects were suffering for it. He knew the general Empire was suffering for it but he couldn’t bring himself to fix it. He had no energy and ignoring Kimeramon took everything he had. It was work on Kimeramon, or lay in bed ignoring everything.

Something curled sour in his stomach at the thought of working on Kimeramon. At some point, not consciously, he’d made his decision. Finishing Kimeramon was unconscionable. He couldn't and wouldn’t do it. But still it haunted him. It, and everything it represented. He couldn’t just ignore it and continue on.

Which left him almost trapped. Nothing he could do, useless and unable to even help Daisuke. Everything had suddenly tumbled out of his control; or rather, he’d suddenly refused to control everything if the cost was a brutality he could no longer stomach. And now he had no idea what to do.

“Wormmon,” he called softly, knowing his partner was nearby, wanting both comfort and maybe a bit of guidance.

There was a shuffling near his feet, then Ken felt Wormmon crawl over his legs to settle against his chest. “Yes, Ken-chan?”

Ken took a deep breath and closed his eyes, blocking out the lights. Words crowded together in his throat, so for a moment he just curled tightly around Wormmon and held him. He thought about how he knew it was his war destroying Daisuke, how he’d blinded himself to it for so long, how they’d both let it twist them beyond recognition.

But Wormmon was Wormmon. While Ken and Daisuke got twisted up inside, turned around by their own trauma, Wormmon would always be Wormmon. Held in place, made complicit by his own loyalty, yes, but unchanging in his gentleness, his sweetness. Ken’s morality had bent; he trusted that Wormmon’s never would.

He trusted Wormmon like he trusted no one else, not himself, not Daisuke.

If he wanted an honest, unfettered opinion of the past few years, of the war, something he could build his next actions off of, Wormmon was it.

He swallowed, stroking his nails across Wormmon’s carapace. Ken closed his eyes, remembered those first few tumultuous months of just him and Wormmon working on the first Towers in a tiny corner of his first territory, the Rings a fresh, working disaster around them. How vehemently Wormmon had protested, how he’d cried almost constantly. How Ken himself had kept working without acknowledging Wormmon at all. How eventually Wormmon had stopped protesting at all when he realized Ken didn’t want is opinion.

“Be honest with me,” he requested. Wormmon hummed in acknowledgement. “What do you think of... everything? Of the war?”

Wormmon looked up at him, eyes wide and thoughtful. He didn’t answer for a long moment as he clearly weighed it in his head. Finally his expression dropped into something deeply upset, quite like a wall had been dropped. Like Wormmon had been hiding it all this time. “I don’t like it,” Wormmon said, voice wobbling slightly. “I hate it, actually.”

“Wommon…”

“I’ve always hated it. After, after you got sick, I… I understood the necessity. The need to find a cure, the resources that would be required. Even, even the wish to help keep future Chosen from suffering like you two had.”

Ken huffed, quiet, a little unsettled. Had that ever been the reason he’d done everything? Certainly it was Daisuke’s, and protecting Daisuke was a large part of Ken’s. It was what he’d told himself for years but hearing it now from someone else, it suddenly sounded hollow.

“But, now,” Ken could hear the tears in Wormmon’s voice, “There’s no justification for all of this. I hate it. And I hate what it’s doing to you. I’m worried about you, and not just because of your sickness.”

The sour feeling in his stomach increased at the way Wormmon’s voice crumbled. He drew his knees up so Wormmon was caught in the curl of his body. Regret surged up along with the sick feeling. Oh, but hurting Wormmon had been the last thing he’d wanted.

“Thank you,” he said, voice caught in his throat. “For the honesty.”

Wormmon nodded. There was another weighted pause, but before Ken could inquire, Wormmon asked, “Ken-chan, have you been keeping track of Daisuke-kun out in the field?”

“No,” he mumbled, unease filling him. He’d been too ill to keep up with anything. But he remembered the wild fear in Daisuke’s eyes and felt chilled through. He couldn’t imagine that pairing that look with Wormmon’s hesitancy and concern would equal anything good. “What is it?”

“Something’s wrong,” Wormmon said, “He’s not acting like himself”

Ken bit his lip but he really didn’t have enough knowledge yet to say anything. He’d have to look into it later, when he wasn’t so tired. “Thank you,” he said again.

For now, he pulled Wormmon right up against him and attempted to sleep. Attempted was the key word. His thoughts swam with a buzzing anxiety. Wormmon’s words had drug up and confirmed the thoughts he’d been trying to ignore.

In his attempts to protect his family, he had only ended up hurting them. Everyone involved with the Empire was being slowly destroyed.

And he was so tired of being told something was wrong with Daisuke; he was tired of having to guess at how bad off he was. He was tired of everything, and he was done.

Slowly, careful not to disturb Wormmon, Ken levered himself out of bed; he shrugged into a coat for warmth and shuffled towards his office. At his desk, Ken began pulling up recent surveillance of around the Empire, searching for Daisuke “What are you up to,” he mused, “that has everyone so worried?”

A few minutes later, he understood completely.

Ken pressed a hand to his mouth as he watched the surveillance, watched as Daisuke cut through villages for no reason, without mercy or hesitation. XV-mon followed after, only interfering when Daisuke needed help, but certainly making no move to stop him. Daisuke didn’t stop until the village was completely dead.

He shivered, unable to look away, a sick feeling growing in his stomach as he watched. This was wrong. This was… He didn’t have words.

Ken was the one given to cruelty, to ruthlessness, to destroying towns just to send a message. Daisuke had never been like that, had never been given to such destruction, had always better understood the need for limits. Daisuke maybe enjoyed fighting too much, maybe took too much pleasure in a successful mind game, but he’d always respected the idea of Too Much, understood when they went too far better than Ken could. Destruction on this scale wasn’t something Daisuke enjoyed or partook in lightly. Ken couldn’t even see a reason for Daisuke’s attack.

And Vee, noble-hearted Vee, just watched with a grim expression, making no effort to stop the slaughter.

It was all wrong.

 _Why_ , Ken thought, a little desperately, _Why this, why them, what happened?_

The worst part, the absolute worst, was that it was the sword Ken had made that Daisuke used. This was, technically, the reason it had been made: to assist Daisuke in a fight. Ken just hadn’t expected Daisuke to use it so lightly or in such a manner.

And why should he have? It was Daisuke. Daisuke, who had never been quite as cold-hearted as Ken, who had always resisted the idea of being a soldier even as the Digital World demanded it of him. Daisuke, who had fought him every step, intent on keeping them from falling over some line Ken had long lost sight of.

Daisuke, who had _fought him_ in the beginning. For three months, Daisuke had challenged the Empire without knowing who stood at its head. He’d organized the digimon, did the work the Chosen were currently; raved to Ken in the human world about both the Empire’s atrocities and Ken’s own refusal to act. Ken still remembered the look on his face the first time he’d faced the Kaiser and realized who was behind everything; that look of sick betrayal wasn’t one he’d ever forget.

And god, Daisuke had been so angry, absolutely furious, right up until he had had a seizure and all the work he’d done to hide how sick he was from Daisuke came crashing down.

Two months later, Ken had returned to the Digital World with Daisuke at his side, the reluctance of his agreement a well-kept secret. “ _Just until you’re healed,_ ” Daisuke had promised with a steal expression. “ _We find a cure, then we leave this world and we never look back_.”

Ken had never asked what exactly had convinced Daisuke to join him, the same way he didn’t ask when Daisuke began to agree that ruling the Digital World was the only way they’d ever be safe. And then, slowly enough that Ken didn’t notice until months later, Daisuke stopped arguing with him about every move the Empire made, about when Ken went a little far or drifted further from being the Child of Kindness. Stopped protesting how hard they worked the Ringed digimon, stopped protesting Ken’s vengeance when he was hurt. Ken wasn’t sure when he’d stopped grimacing every time he passed a Ringed digimon, or when he’d started accepting it as a matter of course. But it had all happened.

His sweet-hearted Daisuke, who had once screamed himself hoarse and refused to look at him for two weeks when he Ringed another village, had become _this_.

Ken jammed his eyes closed to block out the surveillance. He’d wanted to protect them, but that all sat as ashes at his feet. He wanted, so badly, to blame it on the Digital World, on those who had first taught them that sometimes killing was necessary if they wanted to survive. But this had nothing to do with survival, and everything to do with Ken willfully throwing aside his own morality and assuming it wouldn’t have consequences. With Ken normalizing their brutality until Daisuke didn’t even blink at it. Until Vee stood aside and let it happen.

The Empire Ken ruled. The choices Ken had made. The sword Ken had built.

He’d destroyed everything. Everyone he’d been trying to protect had just ended up hurt more. It was his fault.

His breath caught. The thought continued to circle around his head, louder and louder. He couldn’t escape it. He gulped wetly, eyes beginning to burn. His chest tightened.

Ken shook his head, trying to banish the thoughts, and focused on breathing slow and even. He was getting too emotional; he couldn’t have a panic attack right now. He spent a few minutes just trying to breathe normally, waiting out the tight deserpation wrapped around his lungs.

When he felt calm again, he refocused on the computer and began systematically closing out everything to do with his search. He’d seen what he’d needed to; anything else would just make him more upset.

Really, he hated wallowing. Rare was the problem that couldn’t be solved by acting instead of sulking about it. He wasn’t going to just sit there crying.

He’d identified the problem- it didn’t matter if he was the one to create it. What mattered was solving it. The problem was not the stress, the callousness, the violence;it was the Empire. The Empire and all it stood for.

A burn crept down his spine. He ignored it.

The effect on his family was obvious. And even if it wasn’t, Ken trusted Wormmon more than anything; if Wormmon thought the Empire was wrong, Ken believed him.

He had a problem, now he had to find a solution.

Ken bit his lip as he thought it over. How it would be pretty much impossible to change the way the Empire worked after all this time, and how that was the only solution: get rid of every horrible thing that had been normalized, that Daisuke had once vehemently protested and no longer blinked at, remove every operation and project and detail Wormmon hated. 

It would take too long, especially with Daisuke so far off the rails and the Chosen such a threat. And he couldn’t hold out until the end of the war and fix things then. A quick end had stopped being possible a long time ago. The damage to the others might be irreparable by then.

His thoughts shuffled around in furious loops, almost like he’d tripped over a paradox. Then... Then it was quite like something that had been silent and still and almost asleep in the back of his head woke up for the first time in forever. A voice that brought memories of a lake, a promise that was more an oath, and a kindness that glittered a gentle purple behind his eyes.

The burn in his neck increased and blood began to drip down his nose. Ken didn’t notice, consumed by the thought that dropped into his head, whispered by a part of him he barely remembered.

 _Lose_.

Ken gasped as the idea settled and took root. _If the Empire is the problem, don’t fix it. Tear it down._

He wouldn’t even have to do it himself. All he had to do was stop fighting. Surrender.

A shudder broke across him. He curled up as the burn of his neck grew sharp and an ugly thought whispered, _You can’t be serious_. It settled heavy and mire-thick; ill-fitting and not quite right in a way he didn’t like and only knew it made his skin crawl.

 _Give up the Empire? Give up a world? For what? A worm? A_ boy? _Is one little boy worth surrendering everything you’ve built?_

“No, I don’t-” Ken whispered, in a quiet tone that almost, _almost_ sounded like that first, gentle voice in his head. “I don’t want- This isn’t what I wanted.”

There was a creak from the door behind him. Ken turned, heart punching against his ribs, and found V-mon standing there. “Ken?” V-mon called, “What are you doing? You’re supposed to be resting.”

Like a balloon popping, the tension left him in a rush. He couldn’t deny how good it felt to see V-mon again after so long. Warmth burst through him as an uncontrollable smile crossed his face. “Right, yes,” he said in immediate agreement, without any thought. Probably for the best though, he realized. He felt exhausted to the point he might fall asleep on his feet. There would be time in the morning. “Let me clean up and I’ll be right there.”

However, even as he shut down the computers, washed his face in the bathroom, there was a persistent pressure in his head. That wrong, ill-fitting, almost foreign weight remained. And, beneath it, that quiet voice refused to be silent again, whispering a truth Ken had half-forgotten.

_Please. I don’t want to be a monster._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas, though its a few days late, and Happy New Year, though its a few days early.


	21. Imploding Hearts

The village was in tatters. Buildings were levelled, fields mere lumps of torn up dirt. Smoke and embers and ruin were all that was left of the once thriving village. Broken Rings and chunks of destroyed Tower littered the ground. For the digimon that still lived, survival seemed a hollow victory in the face of the loss of their village, their friends, and their families.

Miyako wished the sight wasn’t as familiar as it was. 

The truth was, though, that the Chosen had visited a dozen such villages in the past weeks. Villages that rested on the edges of the Empire destroyed not by Motomiya but the invading Imperial armies, conquering with a new force. Gone was the previous organized chaos and easy capture of territory; now the Empire butchered their way into new land, Ringed any who survived, and planted their mark on the ashes.

Ichijouji and Motomiya seemed intent to rule over ruins if that was what it took to rule.

And there was nothing they could do. The Chosen could take on any foot soldier thrown at them but there were still only four of them. They couldn’t be everywhere at once. Somewhere, the Empire would push forward and meet no resistance from the Chosen. So this was all they could do. Come when it was too late, take back the territory. See if they were even saving something, or if it was just empty land.

Miyako leaned against Holsmon’s side, not scouting the village with the others. There was no brightness here, nothing she wanted to see. 

Instead she watched the team. Watched Takeru carefully pick through ruins of building, shoulders pulled tight to his ears; watched Iori kneel before the survivors, so gentle as he spoke; watched Hikari move cautiously through the destruction, examining the remains with a look both compassionate and coldly assessing. Miyako would never understand how she managed to be both at once. It wasn’t long before Hikari headed towards her, waving for the others to fall in. They all looked equally resigned.

“There’s nothing left,” Iori said with a blank-faced acceptance. 

Miyako pursued her lips and didn’t disagree. A sick, sour feeling filled her stomach at her own dull agreement, how they all so easily wrote off a whole village. Guilt swam uneasily through her stomach at the knowledge they weren’t even going to try to fix it.

But what could they do? There was almost nothing left of the village and they had neither the time or resources to completely rebuild it. And even if they had all of that, the village sat on the edges of Imperial territory, right in the war zone; it would just be destroyed again. Rebuilding would just be a waste.

And all of that? Miyako hated it. Hated the reasons, hated that she could recite them by heart and at the drop of a hat, hated that they were useless to help and another digimon village was just going to disappear beneath the Empire’s march.

And there was nothing she could do.

“Let’s,” Hikari started, then paused and sighed. “Let’s gather up the survivors then. We’ll take them to Full Metal City.”

“Hikari,” Takeru said, half-warning, wholly sympathetic.

“I know,” Hikari said, with the kind of exhaustion that only came from being against a wall and knowing it. “I know, but there’s nowhere else.”

There was a pause, then Takeru nodded. “Yeah, okay. We’ll see if there’s any supplies worth salvaging.”

“Thank you,” Hikari said. She closed her eyes for a second and when she opened them, her expression had changed, filled with a quiet dignity and the kind of steely command that wasn’t easily ignored. “I’ll go talk to the digimon.”

Miyako watched her walk away with sure steps. Then Takeru clapped her on the shoulder and motioned her to follow. Miyako did so, lagging behind as Takeru and Iori began to shift through the more salvageable ruins for supplies, for anything that could be of use to Full Metal City.

Miyako sighed and bound up her hair, rolled back her sleeves, and joined them. It was difficult work, even with their digimons’ help, but Miyako prefered it. It made it easier not to think.

With her assignment finished, with nothing else for her to look into with Motomiya’s search, she found herself with too much free time. For as gruelling and difficult and terrible as her research into Motomiya’s actions had been, it had given her something to do. Something that helped the team, that made her useful, that kept her from drowning in her own head. Now that it was finished, she had nothing but the trips to the Digital World to calm her.

Which wasn’t enough. For as brutal as the battles could be, as back-breaking as clean ups were, she still laid awake at night without the research to numb her brain. She laid awake and thought about everything that had gone wrong in the last few months. About how everyone was broken but she seemed to be the only one who couldn’t piece herself back together again; about how she hated that she resented the others for it, and yet couldn’t stop. About how everything was terrible and there was nothing she could do.

The war continued on and she kept fighting and _it didn’t matter_.

“I don’t understand,” Iori said quietly. He was bracing up a half-broken wall of a building, paused in the act of moving it aside. He stared into the middle distance with a look a mix of contemplative and just sad. “Why are they just destroying everything now? Why the change? What does it accomplish?”

“They’re jerks,” she said, “It doesn’t have to accomplish anything. It just has to hurt.”

“That’s not it,” Takeru said. Miyako looked over at him. Takeru stood with his back to them, head bowed, and the slump of his shoulders wasn’t encouraging. “The Empire didn’t change. _They_ did.” Takeru nodded his head towards where the survivors were huddled together.

“What do you mean?” Iori asked.

Takeru sighed and turned to look at them. There was something half-defeated in his expression. “We’ve been winning. Before us, the Empire was… unstoppable, especially to villages like this. And then we started winning. And Full Metal City happened. And suddenly the Empire seems beatable again. This-” Takeru motioned to the destruction around them and there was a strange, bitter knowing in his eyes. “This is hope ouweighting fear. They thought they had a chance, so they fought back. They were wrong. And the Empire destroyed them for it.”

Iori sighed, shoulders dropping as if under a great weight. Miyako looked over at where the survivors were sitting. They were huddled together, shrunk into themselves, eyes blank and lost and unfocused; though they pressed against each other, Miyako thought they each looked terribly alone.

It was a feeling she understood more than anything.

She looked away, her chest tight and devastated with guilt and more sympathetic understanding than she could bare. “Let’s just finished this,” she muttered and bent to pull aside a chunk of collapsed wall.

There was silence behind her, the weight of eyes on her, then the sounds of the two boys going back to work. It took a few hours to clear the small village, even with Hikari and a few of the less comatose digimon helping. Miyako was dirty, sweating, aching in a bone-deep, exhausted way that was the opposite of the accomplishment that came from a good day of hard work. It had been a long time since she’d felt that hard-earned accomplishment rather than just tired. 

She was so tired all the time.

Finally, they began to pack up, lifting the surviving digimon onto the backs of their partners. The destruction, the death, was widespread enough this time that they could all fit. It wasn’t always, and for all it was easier, it broke her heart. 

Miyako paused before she jumped onto Holsmon’s back with her share of the survivors, stopped by the realization Hikari wasn’t moving. She looked over at Hikari, who was lingering near Nefertimon and staring out over the destroyed village. Her fists were clenched.

“Everything okay, Hikari-chan?” she asked.

Hikari nodded. “Yeah. It’s… it’s not fine, but I am. They’ll pay for this.”

Miyako didn’t sigh, but she wanted to. Her stomach dropped as she considered what that meant for the next few days. No doubt they’d be working non-stop to take down all the nearby Towers. It was good work, useful work, but god- she was so tired of _destroying things_. 

“Once this is over,” Hikari said, not looking over at her, in the tone of a promise. “We can start making things better.”

Miyako had managed to restrain her sigh, but she couldn’t hold back her laugh. A quick laugh, just a puff of air, strained and bitter.

Hikari turned to look at her with a frown. “What’s so funny?”

Miyako thought about it. Thought about the future. The next few days that would be nothing but fighting, of tearing down Towers in one place that would only be replaced somewhere else. How they’d follow every expansion attempt the Empire tried and never make any progress in actually pushing them back.Constantly coming across destroyed villages they couldn’t help; displaced digimon they moved to a city rapidly running out of room; supplies they collected that never, ever filled the lack.

It all stretched out in front of her, just as it stretched out behind her. Repetitive, day in and day out, and they never seemed to get ahead in this fucking war.

She met Hikari’s eyes. “You think this is ever going to end?”

She turned away from Hikari, hooked her hands over the arc of Holsmon’s wings, and jumped up behind the Baby and Child digimon she was carrying to the city. She ignored Hikari’s stuttered response and nudged Holsmon into the air.

“Miyako-san?” Holsmon inquired as they flew towards Full Metal City.

“No,” she said, refusing to soften to the worry in his voice.

What did it matter if she’d stopped thinking the war was something they could win? She was still doing her job. They could complain about her behavior when she did.

*****

Strategically, Hikari knew it would be best to focus on the surrounding airspace, to be on the lookout for any potential enemies. But she couldn’t look away from the line of Miyako’s shoulders. Couldn’t focus on anything but the memory of Miyako’s voice, empty and numb.

And there was no way she would ever be able to talk to Miyako about it now. She’d lost her chance to do so as soon as Miyako flew off. Whatever strange mood Miyako was in that had allowed her to open up and reveal as much as she had, it was over now. Miyako had shut down again and Hikari had already realized over the past months that she wasn’t capable of getting her to open up again.

She hated it. And she nothing she could do.

Hikari sighed, then took a breath and focused on where she could see the line of grassland becoming desert. Slowly her team circled down for a landing. They landed surrounding an off-color patch of ground, one that was actually a hidden hatch to the tunnels that led to the city.

One by one, they lowered the digimon down into the tunnel. Once they were all down, Hikari began handing down the sacks of supplies they’d gathered. 

Hikari turned to looked at her team. Iori was already looking grey at the corners. She softened immediately and made a quick decision. “Why don’t you all head home now? I’ll finished things here.”

Takeru frowned. “Are you sure?”

She smiled encouragingly and when that didn’t didn’t work, she slid her eyes towards Iori. And just like that, Takeru relented. “Ok. We’ll see you at home.”

She watched as her team took to the air again, then turned to Nefertimon. After a shared look, Nefertimon dedigivolved and jumped down. Hikari followed, closing the hatch behind her.

Hikari led the group through the winding tunnel, navigating the maze of branch-offs with practiced ease. Eventually they came to the final intersection that led up into the city, guarded by two digimon. She nodded briefly to them in greeting, comfortable enough with the guards now to dispense with some formalities.

She watched them look over the group she’d brought with her, then share an anxious look with each other. Finally, the Gazimon sighed and opened the hatch into the city.

As the survivors began climbing up, Hikari approached the guards. “There’s supplies at the entrance of the far north-east tunnel,” she informed.

Candmon nodded. “We’ll make sure they’re collected.” The guards shared another look before Candmon continued, “The next time you come with a group like that, we’re going to have to turn you away.”

Hikari sighed, shoulders dropping, but couldn’t say she was surprised. Couldn’t say she hadn’t seen it coming for a while.

“I’m sorry,” Gazimon said, “But there’s just no room.”

“A month and a half ago this city was empty,” she said, but it wasn’t a true protest.

“Yeah, well, only safe place in the Digital World,” the Candmon said quietly.

“Also, they want to talk to you uptop,” Gazimon said, “Think your spymaster is here.”

Hikari didn’t say that Koushiro wasn’t spymaster, was just trying to help where he could, because the time for those kinds of childish illusions was long gone. “Alright. I’ll go,” she said.

However, the Gazimon stopped her before she could head up. “One last thing. A digimon came by, looking for a member of your team. The other girl. Didn’t leave a message though.”

She frowned. “Which digimon?”

“A Gaomon.”

Hikari shrugged, scrubbed a hand across the back of her neck. “Don’t know a Gaomon. But I’ll tell Miyako-chan,” she promised. She waved goodbye and climbed up into the city.

It was a bit of a walk to the command center of the city where Koushiro would be waiting. She used the walk to observe the changes to the city, massive as they were. Rare were the times she actually ventured up into the city rather than only going to the end of the tunnels; usually Koushiro was the one who went and even that was uncommon, just when the spymaster himself was needed. 

Gone was the eerie emptiness, the digimon huddling close for safety. Instead the city was loud and everyone pressed close because there was no other option. The digimon themselves were lean and hollow-eyed. Too few supplies and the unrelenting knowledge of how big a target they wore had placed a heavy weight on all of them.

Hikari marched through to the city’s control center with a heavy heart, doing her best as always to ignore the way digimon skittered out of her path. Inside, Koushiro was waiting for her with a pensive expression, the leaders of the city moving around him like water around stone.

“Hikari-kun,” Koushiro greeted, then motioned her to follow him. She did so, following him out onto the building’s balcony and away from the anxious, paranoid digimon working inside. The balcony overlooked the city and Koushiro stared out as he settled against the railing. After a second of silence, he said, “As everyone has become increasingly aware, we have a problem.”

“I noticed,” she agreed, mirroring him as they stared out at the ever-increasingly overcrowded city. 

The city had taken in so many digimon so quickly: survivors of Imperial attacks, refugees intent on getting out of the Empire’s way, rebels looking for a base to fight from, even the poor yet fortunate digimon recently unRinged and looking for a place to hide and lick their wounds. All of them, and for all the city’s size, in true Digital World fashion, it wasn’t designed for such massive occupancy.

“Talk’s spreading. Too little room, too little supplies. People are noticing,” Koushiro said, “And it’s been agreed something needs to be done to help ease the strain.”

“I think I have an idea where this is going,” she said, “Another base?”

Koushiro nodded. “Another base. They’re leaving it mostly up to us, decision wise. The reconnescience as well. They’ve got some suggestions, of course, but we’ve gained some trust, enough for… leeway, as it were.”

“Alright. What do we have?”

“Well, this city was chosen for morale reasons, but they’d prefer something with a more tactical location this time. There’s a place in the swamp south-west that seems promising. There’s also-”

“The snow,” she said, cutting him off. Koushiro looked over at her. “There are a few snowy locations on the opposite side of the Empire from here. We can trap the Empire between the two fronts. And well, everyone knows the Empire doesn’t go into the snow, so we don’t have to worry about them being too deeply embedded, or worry about strong reinforcements.”

Koushiro thought it over carefully, then nodded in agreement. “I’ll have some people look into it. No doubt there’s a few good places.”

“Thank you,” she said.

Koushiro shrugged like it was nothing, like there weren’t sleepless circles around his eyes and he wasn’t more disorganized appearance-wise than ever. “Don’t worry about it. Heading home?”

Hikari sighed, dropping her head. “Not yet,” she said, “Got something to do first.”

“Gennai’s?”

“Yeah. Now that I’m not finally falling asleep on my feet.”

“I could have done it,” he said, expression half-chiding, half-worried.

“I know. But I want to,” she said. She smiled encouragingly and patted him on the arm. “I’ll see you later,” she continued.

“Be safe on the way home,” Koushiro said.

Hikari nodded, waved, and walked out. It would be a long flight to Gennai’s, but at least it would all be through friendly air.

When Hikari arrived at Gennai’s house, she found Gennai sitting outside on the porch, watching the clouds pass. She took a deep breath to fortify herself, to silence her racing thoughts, then sat down next to him. There was a moment of silence between them, where they watched Tailmon settle by the pond’s edge with a swishing tail. Finally Gennai spoke, “If I’d known you were coming by, I would have made tea.”

She smiled at him, at the warm welcome in his voice. It only lasted for a second, then seriousness reasserted itself. She sighed and dug the picture of the Crest they were looking into out of her pocket. “I need to know what this is,” she said.

He took it. Almost immediately, his expression dropped. “Ah, yes,” he muttered, “This is the Crest of Miracles. Very powerful. Very dangerous, depending on the hands using it.”

A sinking sensation filled her stomach. She tried to picture what a Crest called Miracles could do, what someone like Daisuke could do with it. There were simply too many options; her brain blanked at the sheer magnitude. “Do you know where it is?” she asked.

They absolutely had to find it before Daisuke did.

But Gennai shook his head. “No. Both it and its associated Digimental disappeared years ago.”

“So it's just, lying around somewhere?” she demanded.

“Oh, no, of course not,” Gennai said, “It was considered too dangerous to be left lying around, so it was hidden. Even I don’t know where it is.”

Hikari bit her lip as she chewed over the information. Maybe if they looked back over Daisuke’s search patterns, now knowing what they were looking for, they could find something new. They just needed a small hint, something to point them in the right direction. “What about its Chosen?” she asked, because she knew if anyone could find a hidden Crest, it was its Chosen.

Gennai jolted, eyes going briefly wide and almost guilty, before he hid the reaction.

But it was enough. Cold realization set into her blood as she cut off whatever response he was forming. “It was Akiyama, wasn’t it?”

There was a moment of silence, of stillness, then Gennai sighed. “Motomiya-kun has been talking again.”

“He’s mentioned Akiyama a few times,” she agreed, “But I haven’t found anything about him.”

Gennai nodded, not looking surprised. 

“Can you… tell me what happened to him?” she asked.

Gennai glanced over at her briefly and the look in his eyes made her stomach flip, uncomfortable and growing more unsettled. Then something old and grief-stricken filled Gennai’s face and the feeling vanished. “Akiyama Ryo was a gift. He was talented, enormously. He was happy to help. Charismatic. He was… a hero. We abused that. Not maliciously, but looking back, it’s obvious we asked too much. We broke him. And he died.”

“And everyone forgot him,” she said.

“...Yes, they did,” Gennai confirmed.

Hikari sighed, shifting so she could pull her knees to her chest. A heavy, hollow feeling filled her. Nevermind she’d already known, had thought she’d accepted it as truth, having it from someone she trusted hurt in a much deeper way. Another bit of the innocent belief she’d once had in the Digital World falling away, leaving behind only a steely sense of duty and forged resolve. “Daisuke said we’re just battle fodder,” she said, without really meaning to.

“No, never,” Gennai said immediately; there was so much fever in the words that Hikari felt the sincerity piece together like a bandage over the new wounds his former words had created. “Its true that mistakes were made. Mostly on our part, I’ll admit. And those boys suffered for it. Akiyama-kun imploded when he broke. Ichijouji-kun and Motomiya-kun… didn’t.”

Hikari hesitated, because something in Gennai’s face didn’t exactly invite questions. But there was very little that actually scared her these days, and she finally had a chance for answers. Everyone else had given up asking what had happened to Daisuke after Full Metal City, but she never had. She couldn’t; some part of her wondered, constantly, urged her to chase down answers. And always, there was the unshakable feeling that she was steadily running out of time and she couldn’t say why. “What happened to them?”

There was a moment where Gennai clearly considered his words, planning out what he wanted to say. “Ichijouji-kun was such a kind soul when he was little, and he was Chosen so little. Years before Motomiya-kun, 8 to his 11. We’ve always asked so much of the Chosen and Ichijouji-kun being so young… he was in a terrible state when he met Motomiya-kun, I know that, still recovering from his first journey in this world, still mourning his friend and his brother. All of that, it certainly tainted Motomiya-kun’s view of the Digital World from the beginning. And then they started fighting for us, and they kept fighting for years, and all their issues just built up over time. They stopped coming to me for help, then just stopped coming at all. Then they turned against us.” Gennai sunk into himself slightly, expression drawing tight. “What happened to Akiyama-kun certainly had a hand in their turn. They never forgave what we did to him. His ghost has haunted them from the beginning.”

Hikari tried to imagine that: spending years fighting, remembering a dead boy, remembering his fate and how easily it could be theirs. Constantly being reminded of how things could end, how they could die alone; constantly knowing that everything they did or suffered would be forgotten as soon as they were gone. She wondered how that could twist someone over time, compound trauma, build resentment. “Can you tell me more? About them, or Akiyama, or the Crest?”

Gennai met her eyes again; Hikari stilled beneath the stare, her hair beginning to stand on end. “I’m sorry, I can’t.”

A sense of wrongness filled her. She choked down a frown, met his stare evenly and unwaveringly. It took a second, then realization drew a cold finger down her spine. _Oh_. Everything shattered around her and realigned in a new form. “This Crest, Daisuke’s putting a lot of effort into finding it. Do you know why?”

“No. They stopped telling me things a long time ago.”

The smile came up automatically, as wide and earnest as she could manage. “Alright, thank you,” she said. She tried not to hurry through her goodbyes, keeping her smile firmly in place.

“Good luck,” Gennai said, still watching her with dark eyes.

Hikari nodded, stood, and began to leave, Tailmon immediately joining her. She waited until she was outside the property walls, then her smile dropped.

“Hikari?” Tailmon asked, concern thick.

“He’s lying,” she said, like that at all began to encompass the situation. Like it touched on how, in reflection, the whole visit had an edge of calculation; how Gennai had weighed every word, weighed her, and decided if and what he was going to tell her; how he’d lied to her face without blinking or stuttering or shame. “He knows exactly what Daisuke wants with that Crest. He knows a lot more than he said. And he’s lying about it.”

“You think?” Tailmon asked but her tail was standing on end, fur rising defensively in response to Hikari’s words.

She didn’t even have to think about it again. “Absolutely.”

*****

There was something peaceful in kendo practice, Iori had found. The weight of the bokken in his hands, the familiarity of the steps and the swings. Knowing where everything was and would be. All he had to focus on was the next move.

On the worst days, when he couldn’t sleep, when his scars ached no matter how much he told himself it was only in his head, when memories echoed and haunted, he could practice and find some semblance of peace.

It provided a place where he could breathe, where he could clear his mind or organize his thoughts, where he could be in control. And maybe for a while his hands had shook, and chills made him shiver, and his mind put shadows where there weren’t any, but he’d worked through it. He would take the sleepless nights and terrible dreams, bitterly swallow the fear of the dark and the claustrophobia, would even accept the panic attacks and phantom pains. But _this_? This was his and he wasn’t letting Motomiya take it away.

It was peaceful; he could breathe and think; it was centering, half-way between meditation and dreaming. 

(And sometimes, like how sometimes happened when he dreamed, the world would go almost sideways, would go purple and grey. And if he didn’t push it, if he just let it happen, then there were moments where everything lined up in his head and he could see it. See everything, the whole of the Digital World spread out at his feet, Knowledge and Sincerity a too potent mix for secrets.

Mountain chains passed behind his eyes and he could taste the history on his tongue, the battles and fear and the Empire’s march. The desert with its tunnels and smuggler dens. Plains and oceans and a small hidden house that bled with old wounds and divided loyalties. And dark palace against the sky that was called home but was built of desperation and fear and unpleasant ghosts.

Then he’d wake up and the world shifted back into place, and he forgot. He was Chosen but he was only human and he wasn’t meant to hold that kind of eternity.)

Iori moved through the next kata easily, but his thoughts were focused on the team, on the information Hikari had sent. On the upcoming battle plans. On her recent conversation with Gennai. On the things he’d have to be ready for soon that he didn’t know how to face.

The idea that Gennai, the man that had provided him sanctuary while he healed with no expectation of repayment, was lying to them, about Motomiya and Ichijouji no less, it didn’t sit well with him. But, at the same time, he trusted Hikari’s opinion-- if she said Gennai was lying, he believed her. And, asides from that, the accusation rung with something like truth, in the parts of himself that had called out a Crest called Sincerity.

He didn’t like it; didn’t like that there was no way to double-check what Gennai told them. Not with the only other people who would know being violently against them. Didn’t like that they couldn’t say how much Gennai had ever told them was a lie, or why he was lying at all.

But, really, that was the least of his current problems. 

They were going to take another base.

The next swing came down too hard. Iori paused, readjusted his grip, and took a deep breath Waited until he felt a little calmer, then began again.

They’d all known it was coming. The situation in Full Metal City was obvious, even when you couldn’t get within the walls. The war was at a tipping point- one could feel it in the air. Something big had to be done, and soon, to secure the shift of war in their favor.

He’d known, in a distant, theoretical sense. But now it was actually happening and Iori wasn’t ready.

Thinking about the upcoming battle made his hands shake, made his heart race. Of all his progress, he still didn’t feel ready for that kind of battle again. Every thought of that battle brought a fresh wave of anxiety, of fear, of the all-consuming thought that it was happening all over again.

A battle, a teammate imploding; the potential of injury, of death. It all strung together in his chest and felt inevitable. The battle would come, and Motomiya would come as well, whatever the others thought about the snow limiting Imperial interference. Motomiya couldn’t just stand by and let them take another base after all. And where Motomiya went, death followed.

A shiver interrupted his next swing, though he did his best to ignore it.

He wasn’t ready to face Motomiya in a battle yet, maybe wouldn’t ever be able to. Couldn’t face the idea of suffering that kind of hurt again, if he even survived it next time. He could barely think about it without having a panic attack. 

And that, that was the _better_ option. Because the other option was his team being hurt instead. And he couldn’t handle that. It was bad enough watching Miyako fall apart following his own injury; he couldn’t even imagine how such a wound would affect her at this point.

And if it wasn’t Miyako, then it would be Hikari or, gods, Takeru. Takeru, who had been so patient and kind with his recovery, who had been a font of strength whenever he faltered, who understood even when Iori didn’t have words. Who had, more and more, began dropping the suffix from his name. He couldn’t stand the idea that Takeru would be hurt and there would be nothing he could do about it.

It was all going to go wrong. He was going to freeze up and watch it happen and someone was going to get hurt. And they couldn’t just say no, because the war, and the Digital World, needed it. There was nothing he could do.

“Iori.” 

Iori snapped from his thoughts to find he’d paused in the kata. His grandfather was watching him with dark, concerned eyes, one hand laid over both of his on the bokken. “You’re shaking,” his grandfather said.

He was. Iori took another deep breath, unclenched his grip on the bokken, and did his best to chase off his shivers.

His grandfather sighed. “Still thinking about the base?”

Iori nodded, glad that he was now technically required to tell his family everything. Being able to look to them for advice was so much easier when they already knew he was fighting a war. He watched his grandfather move back to the sidelines and sit down. “I can’t… I keep thinking about it and I can’t face Motomiya again.”

His grandfather made a quiet sound of understanding and encouragement.

Iori restlessly moved the bokken between his hands. “He just, he, he has this way of making me feel weak. I hate it but- I can’t do anything. I just freeze up.”

“You were hurt, Iori,” his grandfather said, so very soft and gentle. “And it’s been a long recovery process. You’re _still_ recovering. It’s alright to feel weak sometimes, even during a fight. You don’t have to be strong all the time, and that includes in battle.”

“But-”

“You’re not alone, Iori,” his grandfather said, “Even without the rest of your team, you’ll always have Upamon.”

Iori glanced over at Upamon, sleeping on top of his gear, and smiled. “Yeah.”

“The team is there to support you. Let them.”

“But then how do I protect them? If I’m leaning on them, how do I have their backs?”

“Trust them to take care of themselves, first off. It’s alright to borrow their strength until you find your own. There’s more than one way to be strong.”

Iori smiled, mostly to himself, but it didn’t help the hollow, anxious feeling in his chest. “Thank you, really,” he said, and hoped it came out slightly convincing.

“What makes you feel strong, Iori?” his grandfather asked, “What makes you feel safe?”

The team. Always, at the end of everything, the team. They were more than safety, they were home. And he’d do anything to protect them, to make sure they never had to suffer what he had. 

What made him feel safe, asides from the team? What made him feel strong? Iori shifted his grip on the bokken again, considering, and felt a smile flick at his lips. Oh, he had an idea.


	22. I'll Be Good (I'll Love the World)

Gaomon remembered being small once, remembered being nothing more than a little Botamon huddling inside a crumbling house because he was afraid of what might be outside.

He also remembered Miyako Inoue, who had never stopped trying to save what was left of his village, even when she bled, even when she burned.

Somewhere between the two memories, he found his courage.

The Empire’s shadow grew by the day, the Knight got ever more vicious, and the stories that filtered down… they weren’t pretty. There was a feeling in the air now, a tension, an anticipation. A thousand wires pulled taunt, a whole world holding its breath; everyone waiting for the next turn of a war in which they were barely ants, to see if they would be the ones to fall next.

He remembered what the war had been like before the Chosen appeared; after the first resistance had broken, when there had been no one else to stand against the Kaiser, everyone had given up, had resigned themselves to the eventual Ring. But even the darkest day then hadn’t felt like this. The Empire had been effective, but mechanical, clinical. Now the force behind the Empire actually felt _human_ , in a way it never had before. Human chaos and human cruelty, unpredictable and occasionally pointless, fear and blood for its own sake, rather than for the good of expanding the Empire. If everyone had been resigned before, now there was only horror.

He’d been afraid before the Chosen had come, he’d hid in his village and told himself keeping his head down was for the best. The Empire was a giant and he was nothing next to it; what was the point of struggling, of a fight he couldn’t win? It would be easier to just keep to himself.

He’d been wrong, of course; when the Knight fell and the Kaiser rode for vengeance, it hadn’t mattered they’d kept their heads down. They’d burned just the same as the rebels.

And Miyako Inoue had pulled him from the wreckage of his home without a thought to herself.

He’d kept his head down and he’d burned all the same. Now it felt like the whole world was burning and it was one horror story after another and there was no sticking your head in the sand. He’d never be a fighter, not really, but Miyako had shown him there were so many different kinds of courage.

He could act now. He wanted to.

It had taken a while, months in fact, to recover from the Kaiser’s raid, to rebuild the village, to regain his strength. But he’d digivolved eventually; he was no longer a Baby huddling in a death trap and he was done watching the war happen around him.

Where ever he could help, he was willing to. He just… wasn't sure where to go, where one Child digimon could be of help. But he knew where to go to find out.

Miyako Inoue was everything he remembered, for all she looked like something had aged her at least a decade since their last, first, meeting. Bright and beautiful, gentle hands and ruined fingers, smoke-stained hair and kind eyes. So strong in her softness, the kind of strength that had shown him he didn’t have to be a soldier to fight, to be battle-stained.

It hadn’t been easy contacting her. Even just figuring out where he could reach the Chosen had taken longer than he’d thought it would; convincing the digimon at Full Metal City to pass along a message to them, because he could never seem to catch one of the Chosen’s random visits, had taken even longer. But he’d never given up. She came as he requested; the way she’d brightened when she’d remembered him, the fact that she remembered him at all, wasn’t something he would ever forget. She listened patiently to his pleas, his requests to fight, without judgement. Holsmon waited behind her, watchful and attentive, a regal quality to him Gaomon couldn’t help but admire.

“Are you sure about this?” Miyako asked, watching him carefully. 

“Yes,” he said and tried to emulate everything he admired in her, hoped it came through in his voice. “I want to hep.”

There was a pause where Miyako considered it, then shook her head. Not denial though, only confusion. “You got out of there though,” Miyako said, “You got out of the attack, you got away. You can go back to your life. You don’t have to keep fighting.”

“I know,” he assured, “And I’m not asking to fight. I would have joined those at Full Metal City if I just wanted to fight, I wouldn’t have kept asking after you. There are other things I can do, to be of use to the Chosen. I know a lot of other digimon and I’m really good at being sneaky.”

Miyako gave a strange huff that sounded like laughter. “Well, I suppose if you have that choice,” she muttered, and it didn’t seem like it was directed at him. After a second, she sighed and shrugged. “I… suppose Koushiro-san could always use more spies.”

An informant. “I can do that,” he agreed readily, giddy with excitement that he’d finally have a purpose, finally be able to do something. “I have a lot of friends in other villages, I can talk to them, keep an eye on the region.”

“Okay, I’ll tell Koushiro-san to expect you.” Miyako hesitated, running a hand through her hair. “You know you didn’t have to… go through all that trouble just to get a hold of me. Getting a hold of Koushiro-san or even Tentomon would have been easier.”

“But I did have to,” he disagreed, “I never got to thank you for saving my life. For saving all of use. Anyone else would have left us for dead.”

Miyako looked away, rubbing one hand over the back of her neck uncomfortably. Her shoulders curved down. “It wasn’t that much.”

“It was everything,” he said, more force than he’d meant. But it was wrong, how Miyako’s gentle eyes shuttered and went blank, how small she suddenly seemed. She was a hero; she shouldn’t look so defeated when talking about saving him. When she’d given him so much without thought for the effort involved or a need for recompense.

Miyako’s eyes rose back up to him, huge behind her glasses. For a moment Miyako merely stared at him, mouth slightly parted. “Thank you,” she said, in a small voice that made him shift.

From behind Miyako, Holsmon shifted, looking uncomfortable. “Miyako-san…”

Miyako ignored him. She pushed her glasses up so she could scrub at her eyes; when she refocused on him, her eyes were still big and wet and Gaomon gulped. “Right, so, Koushiro-san,” she said and the soft, teary eyes blinked and shuttered. Every gentle, beautiful thing got packed away behind something almost professional. Almost, because it was more like an ill-fitting mask; it didn’t suit her, to be hidden, to be hard. “I’ll talk to him. If you’re sure?”

“I am.” 

A fracture in the professionalism, a greater fissure in the mask-- hesitation, where probably one of the other Chosen would be firm, be certain. “You don’t… surely, your village could always use another defender. Every village could, these days.”

“I… no.” He shook his head, looking down. “The village… it's still mostly ashes, honestly. Not really much there to attack.”

“But… it's been months,” Miyako stuttered, “Surely, you’ve been able to repair something.”

He shrugged, a little helplessly. “Well, there were so few of us left after.” For a minute he thought about that day, how the village had looked through a veil of smoke. Watching Miyako dig through broken houses that had once belonged to his friends and find noone. How at the end there had been six of them standing, all weak and scared, where once there had been a thriving village. He crooned without meaning to, a quiet, sad sound because no amount of repair would ever fix what they’d lost.

He was not expecting Miyako to drop to her knees and pull him into a hug. He sighed heavily and leaned into her; she was so warm, her embrace every wonderful thing he admired about her. His worry, his tension, eased away as he accepted the comfort. 

And maybe this was also a small part of why he’d focused on contacting Miyako above all others. He knew her, he owed her, he admired her on a level that bordered hero-worship. But also, he’d seen the other Chosen-- noble, righteous warriors, all of them, steel-spined and laser-focused and soldiers to the last. He didn’t want a soldier, he wanted Miyako, who didn’t seem wholly fit the role no matter how hard she tried.

“Rebuilding has been slow,” he admitted when Miyako eventually pulled back. “We don’t have many resources either and considering current circumstances, no one wants to travel that far from the village, just in case.”

“But your village is nowhere near the front lines,” Miyako protested. He didn’t have to say anything before Miyako sighed and slumped into herself. “Yeah, no, that doesn’t mean much these days.”

“I can’t do anything for them,” he admitted and couldn’t quite keep the words neutral fact. No matter how hard he tried, how much he told himself he had done all he could, he couldn’t stop himself from feeling guilty, from feeling ashamed, that he couldn’t help. He wasn’t a fighter, he couldn’t give them even the illusion of safety. He ducked his head, because Miyako’s eyes were too soft, too understanding. “But I can help you.”

“Yeah,” she agreed. Then her eyes fell away from his, focused out on the horizon. She frowned. “We’ve been seeing a lot of destroyed villages lately. Even those that are salvageable are… in pieces. Are they… all having that much trouble rebuilding?”

Gaomon nodded.

“And we can’t do anything to help,” Miyako said with a helpless little laugh. “We’re barely keeping up with destroying the Towers.”

“It’s enough,” Gaomon said.

“It’s not,” Miyako said, though it was more of a whisper. There was a pause where Miyako just watched the distance. Then, slowly, a change came over her. Something hardened behind her eyes; her face lost its helpless set. Holsmon shifted uncertainly behind her. When Miyako looked back at him, she looked determined. She said, set and certain and unwavering, “It’s not. But you know, there is something you can help me with.”

\-----

Iori tried not to be too obvious he was counting the minutes as they passed, but a building anxiety meant he couldn’t actually make himself stop. It was silly; early morning in the human world was hardly the place to be panicking because Takeru happened to be a few minutes late.

Only, in all the months they’d walked to school together, Takeru had always been the first waiting outside. It was predictable, a routine Iori hadn’t realized he’d relied on for a sense of normality. At some point, he’d slotted that routine into the same part of his brain as the Chosen’s most common battle formations, where the slightest piece out of place sent him into fight-or-flight because it meant something was drastically wrong. 

It was all so stupid. What was he expecting, that Motomiya had snuck into Takeru’s apartment in the middle of the night? Ridiculous.

(He was trying not to acknowledge that the biggest threat in the human world was always their own thoughts, and Takeu certainly thought too much.)

The door of the apartment building opened; Miyako walked out, shoulders straight, hair pulled neatly into a sensible bun. He checked the time on his phone, grimacing at the screen because Takeru was later than he’d thought.

He heard the stutter of Miyako’s steps. “Where’s Takeru-kun?” she asked and the unease in her own voice made him feel less silly, if not altogether better.

“Late,” he answered. Should he go back up and check on him? Should he call? It was such a ridiculous thing to be getting worked up about.

“Well, I’m sure he just overslept,” Miyako said, and there was something strange in her voice now.

She was right, he told himself. Takeru had been looking more exhausted than usual lately, and had admitted to not sleeping well. Maybe he was finally getting some rest. Iori would give him five minutes, any later and they really would be late. That decided, he turned his attention to the strange quality of Miyako’s voice. Soft, placating if he had to say.

He glanced up, confused as to why Miyako thought he needed placating, and found she wasn’t looking at him. Rather, not his face-- he looked down, following her gaze, and realized that, in his anxiety, he’d pressed his free hand across his front, along the line of his scar. So clearly defensive and Iori hadn’t noticed; he wondered if this was the first time he’d done it, or if he just hadn’t been paying attention all the other times. _Oh_. He dropped his hand, smoothed his hand down his leg. “I’m fine,” he mumbled.

“Okay,” Miyako accepted.

Iori looked up at her, really looked, put his worry for Takeru aside. This was… new. Miyako hadn’t said anything about her meeting with the Gaomon yesterday, at least not to him, but something had happened; something had changed. It had been obvious even yesterday, watching her walk back, in the suddenly certain pace of her steps, the line of her spine. Still obvious today; the cut of her eyes was clear and steady, with none of her previous uncertainty and restlessness.

She reminded him of Hikari, in a way, and not a good one. It was a Hikari at her sharpest, her purest, more frozen light than a girl. Hikari, who was their leader, their general, not their friend. It should have been reassuring, seeing Miyako with that clarity of purpose after so long watching her flounder in her own head. But it was wrong, didn’t fit Miyako; Miyako was a softer brightness. Even her expression, it didn’t feel like Miyako. It felt like a lie; rather, it made Miyako feel like a lie.

“Are you?” he asked, “Okay?”

“Yeah,” she said, steady as anything, “I’m good.”

There was something in the set of her shoulders he didn’t like. They hadn’t asked much about her meeting yesterday and he suddenly wondered if they should have. It was in Miyako’s nature to give herself wholeheartedly to something she believed in, to dedicate her time and attention to it with a fury and passion that was really quite noble. But lately that drive had an edge of desperation to it that bordered on unhealthy; from her duties as Chosen to her research into Motomiya, she’d thrown herself headfirst with no thought to herself. And that desperate steadiness, the clinging grasp that had worn her to the bone, that was still present 

“We’re here to help,” Iori said.

Miyako paused then smiled, all sharp, brittle edges. “You know, I’m getting really tired of being told that.”

He tilted his head, eying her, then nodded. “Alright.”

“That’s it?”

“Yes,” he agreed, “I get it. Sometimes admitting you’re broken just shatters you completely. If you’re not ready yet, that’s okay. We’ll all be here when you are.”

Miyako’s expression wobbled, eyes going wet, until she had to looked away and clear her throat. She was saved from a response by Takeru finally arriving, stumbling out of the building. The relief Iori felt was much too great for the circumstances. “We were about to send a search party,” he called.

Takeru looked up and squinted at him. He didn’t look rested, in fact he looked rather dazed and out-of-sorts. His jacket was buttoned wrong, his hair an uncombed nest, his tie still undone; considering the state of him, Iori was impressed he’d remembered his bag. 

“Are you okay?” Miyako asked.

“It has been _a day_ ,” Takeru said as he walked over. He ran his fingers through his hair, which didn’t really help it at all.

“It’s not even 9 yet,” Miyako said, but it was soft and compassionate.

“Yeah, don’t-don’t tell me that,” Takeru said.

Miyako smiled, all sympathy. “Come on, slowpoke, we’re going to be late.”

Takeru sighed heavily but obediently started walking. Miyako waited until he was next to her, then gently bumped their shoulders together; she took the lead, heading off ahead of them with sure steps and a glance at Iori that was part-compassion, part-command. Iori made a face at her back.

Still, when Takeru passed him, Iori fell into easy step with him; like he actually needed to be ordered to do it, honestly. “Your jacket’s buttoned wrong,” he informed.

He watched from the corner of his eye as Takeru pulled at the front of his jacket and gave it a betrayed look. After a second, Takeru began to undo the buttons, then took his tie off and stuffed it into his pocket. He never bothered to redo his jacket. 

Iori arched an eyebrow in surprise. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m having a bad day,” Takeru said, enough whine in his voice Iori felt safe to smile in amusement. Takeru scrubbed both hands over his face; when he stopped, he looked better, more present and less dazed. “Do you ever just need a minute to remind yourself that… that _this_ you, the you that goes to school and worries about exams and- and _uniforms_ , is as much you as the one that goes to the Digital World and fights everyday?”

Iori glanced down at himself, at where the bright green of his jacket contrasted nauseously with the bruising on one wrist. He made a face at the sight. “Yeah, I get that,” he said, thinking back to his first week back to school after his injury, how strange and indistinct and unreal everything had felt. When he’d known he had to go, but oh, what was the _point_? Trying desperately to remember that it was all actually important, because one day he wouldn’t be fighting a war anymore.

“Yeah, well, I needed like half-an-hour this morning,” Takeru said, and it said something about their lives that Takeru sounded calm and accepting, even pleasant.

“You should have called,” Iori said. Takeru made a dismissive sound, shrugging. Iori sighed. “At the least, you need more sleep. You look like you’re about to fall over.”

Takeru groaned. “Must I?”

“Nightmares?”

“No?” Takeru said, though his tone was uncertain enough to be a question. “Weird dreams. Not nightmares, but, _really weird_.”

“Want to talk about it?”

Takeru made an unsure sound, so Iori didn’t push. They finished the walk to the high school in silence. At the gate, Iori pulled Takeru to a stop, ignoring the disgruntled, vaguely confused face he received in response. “Wait. You look like some sort of hooligan,” he said, ignoring Takeru’s annoyed huff. If Takeru wanted to be offended, he should have brushed his hair. Miyako paused and looked back; Iori waved her on and bent to buttoning Takeru’s jacket.

“I can do that,” Takeru muttered, but made no move to stop him.

“But you didn’t.”

“You’re going to be late.”

“I’m not afraid to run,” Iori said. He tugged on Takeru’s jacket so it laid neatly, mostly unwrinkled. That done, he held out his hand. Takeru sighed but obediently handed over his tie, tilted his head to let him work.

Iori refolded his collar carefully. It created a perfect underline of Takeru’s scar, stark white against Takeru’s tan after all their time in the sun. He ignored it to focus on looping the tie around Takeru’s neck.

“Do you ever…” Takeru started, then paused, eyes unfocusing. Iori didn’t stop working but he slowed, kept his eyes on the tie and his ears on Takeru. “Sometimes, when I dream, I see… the world’s yellow. All different shades of yellow. And, sometimes when I wake up, the world’s still like that.”

Iori finished the knot, carefully tightening it as he thought over Takeru’s words. There was too much tension in the words for it to be a normal dream and besides, yellow was the color of Takeru’s Crest. He thought about the dreams he had occasionally, and more frequently by the day, where everything bled grey and purple at the edges; how that was starting to bleed into the waking hours, usually doing kendo practice when his mind was blissfully empty. He hadn’t given it much thought until recently, because they were just dreams. 

But Takeru was having a similar experience, and was actually concerned about it, then it was time to start giving it a lot more thought. Slowly, not quite sure how he wanted to say it, he admitted, “I know things, when I dream.” He felt Takeru’s attention snap back to him. “It fades when I wake up. It only happens occasionally. The thing is, thinking about it now… it doesn’t feel like me dreaming. It feels like my Crest is dreaming for me.”

“Yeah,” Takeru said. The relief on his face was staggering. “It’s new, or, well, no, it’s not. I’ve got this feeling like, I’ve always had these kind of dreams, ever since I first got my Crest. I just didn’t remember them. But lately, something’s changed. It’s more frequent. It kind of feels like, it’s gotten stronger, like-”

“It’s trying to tell me something,” Iori finished and watched agreement bloom in Takeru’s eyes. Iori paused for thought, then continued, “I see a lot of things, but there is… a focus, almost. A palace, that flies. The Kaiser’s base, I’d say. It’s… shadows and pain, and there’s this kind of gauze over all of it, like it’s just one big lie.”

There was a pause, then Takeru asked, half-curious, half-confused, “Is that how you see it?”

Iori blinked in surprise then realized, of course, Hope would see something so much different than Knowledge and Sincerity. “What do you see?”

“It’s bright,” Takeru said, “Like a sun. Full of hope.” Takeru paused, then looked past him with a hardening expression. Iori looked over his shoulder, unsurprised to see Motomiya entering the campus. Motomiya didn’t look their way as he walked; Iori thought there was something strange about his face, but couldn’t pinpoint what. They watched Motomiya enter the building as Takeru started talking again, “I keep getting this weird feeling from it, but I haven’t been able to put a word on it. But it’s like it’s… twisted, somehow.”

“In the hands of those two, of course it is,” he muttered. He shivered a little, trying to imagine what could make those two so optimistic. He wasn’t expecting Takeru to laugh, quiet and not entirely happy. He looked back at Takeru with a frown. “What?”

“Oh, Iori,” Takeru said, smiling, rueful. “I know. First instinct says hope should be a good thing. But you’re wrong. It doesn’t have to be twisted to be in the hands of bad guys. It’s much more neutral than that. Hope is… its inspiring, its uplifting, it's a drive to action. But it's not inherently good. Hope,” Takeru paused, then continued, so sure it might as well have been the cornerstone of his existence, “Hope is not a gentle thing, Iori.”

Iori watched Takeru, not sure what to read in the hollowness of Takeru’s smile, the darkness of his eyes. “But you’re good,” he said, holding his gaze, steadfast to match Takeru’s certainty. Because Takeru was; was the soft, coaxing understanding that had lifted him out of a flood; was the brilliant confidence that had first made him and Miyako comfortable in the Digital World, was the quiet sympathy that had helped buoy Hikari for so long. If not for Takeru’s soft compassion, Iori wasn’t sure any of them would still be there.

“Thank you. That means a lot coming from you,” Takeru said, and his smile read nothing like agreement. Iori frowned. Before he could push it, Takeru said, “We should talk to the others. See if they’ve been having dreams as well.”

“I suppose,” he agreed, slightly reluctant with the subject change. But, well, there was a time and place. Maybe when they weren’t in the middle of a crowd, he could get Takeru to open up.

“And Iori-kun,” Takeru said. He motioned down the road. “I think it's time you start running.”

“We’ll talk later,” he said, firm, more command than he’d initially planned.

Takeru’s expression softened. “Okay.”

Iori nodded in satisfaction, then turned and ran off for his own school.

\-----

The bottom levels of the base weren’t, in a sense, livable; they held much of the machinery that ran the base, such as the engines, and were generally all designed for functionality rather than long-term comfort. It was also where the slave cages were kept.

Ken leaned back against the wall of the elevator as it slowly brought him down to the bottom levels. His reflection in the metal doors stared back at him, a slightly warped image of disorder and judging eyes. He’d barely had the energy to pick himself up this morning and it showed; he’d tried to piece together his usual appearance, like it was a mask that would give him strength if he could just fit it on properly, and had only half-way succeeded. The usually pressed line of his shirt was wrinkled and he’d left both his cuffs and collar unbuttoned; his vest hung wrong because he couldn’t be bothered to fix it; his belt was missing and the energy he’d wasted looking for it meant he was too tired to find his coat or glasses; his gloves were stuffed awkwardly in one pocket; he’d tried to style his hair and gave up part way through, so it all hung in limp, messy spikes. The worsening parlor of his skin and developing sleep bruising only served to make his eyes seem even bluer, which in it own turn washed his face of even more color.

His exhaustion no longer even registered as such. He was numb and he ached in parts and the world kept moving. He was sick and he wasn’t getting better and time didn’t care. His head kept ringing between two opposing thoughts, neither of which even felt like him at this point, and lying in bed waiting for a solution wasn’t going to accomplish anything. His lifespan was currently being measured in months and he just didn’t have time to be feeling sorry for himself.

He’d thought over everything he’d realized in the past weeks: Daisuke’s new savageness, Wormmon’s hatred of the Empire, V-mon’s numb acceptance, his own growing unease with the actions around him and the inability to perform the actions needed. How he wasn’t even sure if they were needed, if he wanted to continue down his current path. How he couldn’t stop thinking about those villages, slaughtered for no reason, that he wouldn’t have given a second thought to half a year ago but now felt sick over. He had two options ahead of him, one that felt unthinkable and the other that felt unconscionable. He wasn’t sure yet where he was going to push, which domino he wanted to topple, but the answer wasn’t hiding in his comforter.

He’d spent most of the day walking the base, examining his options, the kingdom he’d built; even when he’d wanted to stop and lay down, he’d refused to quit and instead kept going until he felt like he was going to fall over. He was almost done; he could push through a bit more.

There was only these final floors, with the cages and the engines where there wasn't anything but machinery to see and--

But no, he wasn’t, he couldn’t go to the last place, hidden in the base’s shadow. He hadn’t in years, he wasn’t going to now. So it was just the cages left. Then he could think, and plan, and sleep.

The rest of the base loomed in his mind. Something felt different, he was sure of it, from the last time he’d been well enough to walk the halls freely. A ringing tension, a fear, an unnerving quiet for a place so large and so busy. Shadows lurked in the corners and the base was darker than he remembered it ever being; even in their private rooms, the shadows seemed to multiply in places where the light couldn’t reach. Walking around put his guard up for reasons he couldn’t name. How long had it been like that?

The elevator pinged and opened. Ken stepped out. The lighting down here was stark, the same industrial lighting used in his labs, but it still seemed so dark. It was bare, nothing unnecessary, just cages full of digimon: Ringed digimon, held in reserve, either for future projects, for emergencies at the base, or special deployment in the field. There were empty cages, for the digimon currently on shift through the base to return to at night. All lined up in neat rows and columns, organized by evolution stage, type, and attribute so he could easily find what he needed.

He walked between the cages, trailing his fingers over the cold bars. The digimon inside straightened, watched him patiently, obediently, awaiting orders; when he passed without a word, they laid back down.

He paused before a random cell, not for any real reason, only that the rows stretched out before him and never changed and he was tired in every way. He stared down through the bars; the cell belonged to a Hyokomon, a tiny yellow bird digimon. It stared back, waiting patient and silent.

It was such a tiny little thing. The Ring seemed so large around its neck. Pathetic really; it must have fallen to his control so easily. The kind of digimon that actually desperately needed the Chosen’s protection.

Ken had watched Daisuke slaughter villages for no reason and been horrified. But down here, where was the difference?

He’d raged a war against the gods of the Digital World with its denizens as his enemies, his soldiers, and his slaves. He’d told himself it was a fitting revenge, destroying the people he had been ordered to protect with his life. He’d told himself it was deserved, to finally see all his pain echoed in the eyes of those who would forget him as soon as he was gone.

He’d told himself so much.

What bullshit.

There was no power here; there were no great warriors; there were no gods. The gods of the Digital World had never even shown their faces. The only thing here were digimon, young, weak digimon who needed to be protected. Who had nothing to do with his vendetta. Who he had Ringed anyways, had brutalized when they were in his service, whose lives he had carelessly destroyed.

What more reason did his actions have than Daisuke’s? It was all just pain for the sake of pain, like Wormmon had said. How had he ever convinced himself otherwise?

This was a mistake, it was all--

No, mistake didn’t even begin to cover it. This was a disaster.

Not just for the damage it was doing to his family, to those he’d so desperately wanted to protect; but for the damage it was doing to everyone. A whole world brought down by his malice and short-sightedness.

_If it’s wrong, destroy it_.

He looked around himself at the many other cages, the many other stolen, pathetic digimon who he had once sworn to protect. Who had once trusted him to do so, who had looked at him with the same vulnerability and admiration Wormmon did. Now the eyes that stared back at him were blank; if he removed the Rings, the only thing he’d see was hate, maybe betrayal.

He wasn’t Daisuke; he’d never _hated_ the Digital World. For all the pain it had caused him, it was also the only place he’d always felt welcome. And he’d set it ablaze; he’d thought he’d had the _right_ after everything he’d lost to it.

_There is nothing here to fix. It’s rotten to the core_.

He’d built an empire with pain and trauma as its foundation. He’d carved through a world and destroyed everything that got in his way. He’d thought he could build a home on the pillars of an imperial war machine. All he’d done was ruin everything around him. He’d treated digimon like tools, locked them up in uniform cells in the dark where he’d didn’t have to see them; he’d destroyed sections of the Digital World that may never recover; he’d allowed battle after battle to consume Daisuke and Vee, chew them up and spit them out. There was no way to salvage it. Too much damage had been done. Better to destroy it in its entirety than allow a reminder to cause more pain.

_Tear it down_.

For a second, he could see it all. It was all so clear, stretching out behind him, painting across his head in a brilliant pink-purple. All of his mistakes, all of the pain he’d caused, all the way back to the beginning. For a second, he knew exactly what he had to do.

Ken kneeled down, putting himself on a more even level with Hyokomon. His hands shook against the bars but the pain felt far away. He felt rather in a daze. “I have a special assignment,” he said, voice layered soft and sweet. He opened the cage, letting Hyokomon out. “Go out with the next deployment to the western front of Sort Forest. Once there, continue due west until you receive further orders. Don’t stop, no matter what. Do you understand?”

Hyokomon nodded

Ken smiled and patted Hyokomon on the head. “Go then.” He watched the little digimon leave to group up with the rest of the deployment. There would be no further orders. Two days travel from the drop-off, Hyokomon would cross over the border and be out of Imperial territory and out of range of the Towers. The Ring would lose functionality. Hyokomon would be free and, in the dense foliage, the little bird would disappear.

Ken stood to move to the next cage, to repeat the order, and instead collapsed onto his side, legs unwilling to support him. The pain no longer felt far away and instead returned with a vengeance. A feeling like a thousand tiny, dull knives cut slowly over the line of his spine and dug in at his nape. He gasped wetly, trying to breathe through the pain.

For a second, the world shifted under him. Pressure like a heavy weight fell across his neck, like a hand, like someone holding him down. Ken raised his eyes and saw himself. _Oh,_ thought a very distant part of himself, _hallucinations._ _That’s new_.

He stared up at another version of himself, at the perfect mirror holding him in place. 

_A little late for dramatics, don’t you think? You’ve already come so far_. The voice didn’t sound like it came from the double; its lips moved slightly out of sync and the words bounced against his skull to the pulse of pain at his neck.

“I…”

_You really think you can undo all the things you’ve done?_

Ken closed his eyes but it did little to block out the words, or the pressure on his neck, or the deep, pounding pain across his whole body. The voice felt like it was everywhere.

_You’re so close now. You can have everything you want. You can have a world. What’s one crisis of conscious next to that? It will pass, and no one will ever have to know_. _This is still fixable_.

The words settled thick like honey, echoing strange but unignorable, soothing, coaxing, so gentle next to the pain. It was true; all he had to do was stand up, chase down Hyokomon, and rescind the orders. Hyokomon would never realize how close to freedom he had come.

_Good boy_.

The pressure on his neck disappeared. The pain dulled to manageable, to where he could move beneath its force. Ken curled up, sobbing in relief. 

_You can have it all. You only need to do one thing._

A hand slid under his chin and Ken found himself being pulled into a sitting position. His head was tilted back. His double’s eyes were electric blue and he couldn’t look away. 

_Kimeramon_.

Tears slipped out faster.

_Ahah, shh. None of that now. You can do this. You already have once before. What are the lives of these pathetic rats against your rule?_

He could do it. He knew exactly the experiments he would need to do to upgrade the Rings. It was already organized; he just needed to start. Then he and Daisuke and their partners could retreat to the base and recover while Kimeramon finished the war. It would kill something in him to do it, but he could do it. 

The pain eased even more, like a reward.

_Of course you can. You’ll even have your boy to help_.

He’d have Daisuke, who had always saved him before. It would be enough. Daisuke was the only thing he’d ever really loved, after all.

_Good. Get to work._

He could do it. He could do it all.

“No.”

He wouldn’t.

_What_?

Once, he’d been the Child of Kindness. He’d helped people, he’d eased their pain, he’d built futures for them. Once, he’d loved the world with all the fearless devotion of a child. He’s spent his time exploring all its hidden places, awed by the beautiful and nearly alien landscapes, all impossible in the human world. 

The pain came back, worse than before. Ken screamed and doubled over. 

_Then you’ll lose everything. Even the boy. You won’t even do it for him_?

Once, he’d loved a world more than a boy.

He squeezed his eyes shut and wanted nothing more than to apologize. Because he loved Daisuke, loved him with everything he had, would die for him in an instant. Wanted him to be happy and whole and have all the things this war had stolen from him. And it hurt, it hurt so much, in a place the physical couldn’t quite touch, because he knew what to do to help him, and he wouldn’t. It would kill himself in him and he refused to do it. Because at the end of the day--

“This has _nothing_ to do with Daisuke,” he said brokenly and broken and with every bit of strength he had left.

He’d thrown everything he once was away and it was the worst mistake of his life. He and Daisuke had spun closer and closer until they were each other’s world and it had destroyed them both. Now, years later, he was finally able to look back at his choices without the veil of pain and trauma and a lifetime of fighting to distort them. And he was realizing he hated the person he’d become. For once, he was choosing something without that veil and it finally felt like the right thing to do. It just had nothing to do with Daisuke.

(He hated it, but he also felt free.)

The pain kept growing somehow, until he felt dizzy and light-headed. It spread slowly to the front of his throat, so every breath felt like driving needles into his esophagus. Still, he sucked in a sharp breath that screamed down his throat and said, “I don’t want to do this anymore. I’m tired of hurting people. I don’t want to be a monster.” It was weak and he’d never meant anything more.

_You really think you can undo everything you’ve done_?

Ken raised his head through the pain, though he almost bit through his tongue doing so. His double stared down with eyes that were the only color in the room. “I think I have to try,” he said and it felt like an oath. One he didn’t intend to make but embraced all the same.

Like a cord snapping, the pain vanished. The voice vanished. Ken blinked and the double was gone.

He let his head fall forward again, gasping in air that suddenly didn’t hurt to have, ignorant of the tears that still dripped down his cheeks.

He felt _light_.

Slowly, he sat up again, looking around at all the cages. And, as he sat there, regaining his composure, letting the tears dry, he was _finally_ able to think clearly about what he needed to do, like some great weight had fallen from him.

He pushed himself to his feet with remarkable ease and began to walk to the elevator.

He’d chosen his domino.

He couldn’t just randomly start releasing all the digimon, as much as he wanted to, as much as something in him screamed for it. That was addressing the symptom, not the illness. It would only add chaos to accomplishing his actual goal. The Empire, and everything associated with it, had to be brought down and destroyed.

It would be more complicated than that, of course. The Empire was massive at this point; it would take as long to destroy all of its infrastructure as it had to build it. And then there would be the clean-up, making sure none of its tech could ever get into the wrong hands again.

And then there was, of course, Daisuke. Daisuke, who, for all his original distaste of the Empire, he couldn’t see as just willingly rolling over for the destruction of everything they’d worked for. No, it would take time to convince him, time Ken wasn’t willing to be inactive for. The Digital World had suffered their reign long enough.

He would just have to get started without Daisuke. What Daisuke didn’t know for a bit wouldn’t hurt him.

Still, Ken’s work could be much harder. After all, it was already half-done for him. The Chosen were already set on tearing his Empire apart, he just had to let them. Help them along a little. Supplies dropped where he knew they’d be found, Izumi’s spies let in a little deeper than they would get on their own, important battles met with little to no resistance. 

And the war reports the others read, from their own spies and lieutenants? The ones they used to see exactly where the Chosen were being too effective, where they had to force them back? To tell on a broad scale how the war was going? Well, Ken was usually left in charge of that information anyway, unless he wanted Daisuke’s advice. It would be nothing, to edit them before anyone else saw them, so the Chosen could move more freely.

If he acted like he was feeling better, no one would question his returned to his usual duties in their relief. Not until much farther along in his sickness, and by then it would be too late. It wouldn’t even be that hard. He felt better than he had in months, better even than he had before he’d become restrained to the private rooms and his bed.

Ken entered the elevator and pressed the button for the floor with his labs.

Until he could convince Daisuke to stand down, convince him they’d fucked up, it was just going to have to be his secret. It wasn’t like Wormmon or Vee could lie very well anyways. Which meant he couldn’t afford suspicion. Everything had to appear normal. 

He tugged at his sleeves until they laid properly, then buttoned his cuffs. Then buttoned his collar and fixed the lay of his vest. The gloves got pulled out and neatly put on. He arranged his hair so it once again spiked up correctly. Finally he glanced up at his reflection in the metal doors and smiled; the Kaiser smirked back, eyes dark and purple, set and determined. Everything was back in place.

Time to get to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I was really comma happy this chapter and I'm also still not sure of the formatting on that last scene and also my fingers are fucking freezing h e l p
> 
> Anyways, chapter title taken from [I'll Be Good](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=scd-uNNxgrU) by Jaymes Young, which is essentially Ken's character song from this point forward. 
> 
> Thank you all for being so patient with me.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to visit my [tumblr](http://dreamedge.tumblr.com) if you want. I'll be posting updates and such over there as the time allows. You're welcome to ask any questions if you want. My [Crests Corrupted tag](http://dreamedge.tumblr.com/tagged/crests%20corrupted) also has any art or asks about the story.
> 
> Additionally, some lovely souls over on tumblr have been making me fanart. Which, I love you guys. So much. [Asmodile](http://asmodile.tumblr.com), [Jonas](http://koe-s-art.tumblr.com), and [Icelandic](http://soofireanon.tumblr.com) are all amazing artists and you should totally check out their stuff.
> 
> Spoiler warning on all the artwork, obviously.


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